


Heartbreak, Secret Friends, and Stupid Doodles

by i_know_its_0ver



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_know_its_0ver/pseuds/i_know_its_0ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern uni AU: Merlin has a secret crush on Arthur, who has no idea who he is. When Arthur has a bad break up, Merlin takes it upon himself to cheer him up. Secretly, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin really loved economics class.

Not because he actually liked economics—hated it in fact, even more than he hated Sunday morning hangovers. Which made sense, in a way, since they had a similar effect-- both left him confused and with a raging headache.

But economics _class_ was a different story entirely.

Because while Prof. Smith droned on and on about capital and layout and coefficients and other words that were nothing more than gibberish to Merlin, his mind was more agreeably occupied with watching his classmates. Well, _one_ classmate, really. Because even though the lecture hall was full of students, he really only noticed one person: Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur and Merlin were in the same year, but otherwise their lives never really intersected. They ran with different groups of friends (Arthur with the “trust fund kids,” all rich, beautiful and spoilt; and Merlin with, well, Gwen), they were in different clubs (Arthur played club football and Merlin was in the gaming club), they were even in different departments (business and English literature).

Even so, Merlin knew who Arthur was. Hell, everyone did, even the graduate students and the faculty. He was a “big name” on campus, one of those people you couldn't help being aware of, even if you didn't really care. He came from a well known family in the world of business, had movie-star looks, and was even smart to boot. And, of course, he had a gorgeous girlfriend, Vivian, who was the envy of half the male student body and whose father was a business partner of the Pendragons. Arthur Pendragon was damn near perfect.

Merlin, on the other hand, was a nobody. He was bright, but didn’t really stand out since he hated talking in front of large groups and nearly hyperventilated whenever a teacher called on him. He was average looking at best, he figured, since none of the coed population appeared to pay him any mind (not that he was interested in their opinion, anyway, but none of the boys looked at him twice either, which was far more depressing). He was thoroughly average, and for all intents and purposes, invisible.

In spite of these differences, or probably because of them, Merlin had an almost painfully large crush on Arthur, who seemed to be everything he could never manage to be. It had started out as innocent admiration, a kind of idol worship. He only saw Arthur from across the cafeteria or the quad, encircled by his constant entourage. Merlin would watch that group and imagine what it would be like to be in the center of that circle, to be one of them. Not that he wanted in on their undoubtedly vapid banter about cars and partying and...whatever popular kids talked about. Still, it might be nice to have a group of friends like that.

But somewhere, amongst all that causal watching, his admiration had turned to desire. Merlin had always known he preferred men, it wasn’t one of those self-discoveries that occurred during typical uni “experimentation”. He had noticed right from the start how attractive Arthur was, with his broad shoulders and strong jaw. He wasn’t quite the type Merlin usually went for, a bit too fair, a bit too well built.

But the rational part of his mind didn’t seem to care. That same part of his mind also managed to overlook the fact that Arthur was something of an arrogant prick, a typical entitled rich boy. At least, that’s what the rumors said. And it was true, sometimes he would appear brusque or dismissive, but Merlin also noted the way he laughed when he was surrounded by his friends, so open and bright. So what if he was a bit of a prat? Merlin was only fantasizing anyway, and in most of his daydreams, Arthur was too occupied to do much talking.

And it was fine, so long as Merlin didn’t delude himself into thinking it would ever be anything more than silly dreams. But now, miracle of all miracles, they had a class together. For two hours, three mornings a week, they would be in the same room. It was closer proximity than they had ever shared before, besides that one time when he had stood behind Arthur in the cafeteria line (Merlin had been so flustered he'd forgotten what he was ordering and ended up with tuna salad. Ew.).But now we would be free to stare at his leisure, covertly, of course. (Covert staring was one of Merlin’s marginally useful but well developed skills; he was like a ninja in the fine art of discreet ogling.)

Merlin’s academic adviser, Mr. Kilgharrah, had forced him into Economics 101, claiming it would fill a core requirement. Merlin was sure the old man just got his kicks by torturing poor young students, and glowered through another one of his adviser’s lectures about what was best for his future and how to develop his talents. Merlin had complained for weeks leading up to the term, hoping that if he grumbled enough the class might magically be canceled, or disappear from his enrollment records. But now, sitting in class on the first day while the teacher called the roll, Merlin decided he might just have to hug that old crank.

***

Sophomore year was starting off well for Arthur. He had a light class schedule, full of topics that would be a breeze, and nothing too early in the morning (Arthur was like a high-functioning zombie before 10am, or two cups of tea, whichever came first). His schedule left him plenty of time to hang out with his mates and get in some footy practice before they started the season of pick-up games.

And best of all, he was reunited with Vivian. They had spent the majority of their summer break apart, he interning under his father at the family corporation, and she touring Europe with friends. He had missed her more than he had been willing to admit to anyone. But even his practiced stoicism didn’t keep Morgana from teasing him mercilessly, calling him a lovesick puppy and all sorts of other mushy crap that he most certainly _wasn’t_. He was just a bit lonely, was all. Arthur had been relieved when the summer finally ended and they could go their separate ways. Not that he didn’t love Morgana like a sister, but there was only so much of her teasing he could take. At least now she was safely removed by several hundred miles, off at her own university. It was a lot easier to love her when he could ignore her calls, if he so chose.

But now he and his girlfriend were back together, and it felt like a flood of relief, like he was finally whole again after living the past few months in a constant daze. He threw himself back into his usual pattern of classes and practice and dates with renewed enthusiasm. Arthur felt pretty confident that this was going to be a good year for him.

****

Merlin spent the entirety of his first few economics classes spaced out, huddled at his desk in the back corner, ignoring the lecture and alternating between doodling in his notebook (there was an epic space battle taking place in the margins, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance) and enjoying his perfectly calculated view of Arthur’s profile. Gwen would probably yell at him later for not taking notes, and he knew he would get no sympathy when he went crying to her come midterms. But right now there seemed much more interesting things than market shares and stock prices to think about. Actually, anything might be more interesting.

Arthur was a diligent student, which surprised Merlin at first. For all he seemed like a frivolous pretty boy, he was actually serious about class. He took notes by hand, volunteered answers, asked what Merlin assumed were insightful questions (more insightful than his own silent questions, anyway, which consisted of ‘what the hell is going on’ and ‘why did Prof. Smith think that mustache was a good life choice?’).

Merlin had to admit that, in some weird, geeky way, it was hot. Leave it to Arthur to make economics glamorous.

****

But all of that changed in the third week of the semester. Merlin heard the rumors around campus; news of this magnitude traveled fast, and reached even a nobody like Merlin in a matter of days. Gwen had been the one to inform him, and she had been so sweet and empathetic, even though it didn’t involve either of them in the slightest. But Gwen was the kind of person who cried for victims on crime dramas, so it wasn’t really surprising.

Arthur and Vivian had broken up.

Rather spectacularly, or so the rumors went. After over a year of what seemed be perfect bliss and infatuation, Vivian announced that she had fallen for someone else.

Gwen proclaimed that the girl was obviously soft in the head if she thought she could find anyone better than Arthur (while she shared Merlin’s admiration for Arthur, her feelings were strictly platonic, as she already had her own handsome, dashing boyfriend). Merlin tried not to feel excited, even though he knew (again, in that nagging rational part of his brain) this didn’t mean that he would have any sort of chance. He was still invisible, and Arthur was still straight. But at least he was unattached.

****

At first Arthur couldn’t believe it. It felt like something that was happening to someone else, rather than his own life. He watched with a detached kind of horror as his perfectly crafted life seemed to crumble before his eyes.

Vivian had met someone over the summer while vacationing in Italy. It had just been a summer fling, she claimed. Only she had gone and fallen in love.

Arthur knew he should be outraged, maybe even find the guy and challenge him to some kind of dramatic fight to the death (okay, maybe not to the death). But mostly he just felt numb.

He knew how this must look to everyone else: he was the poor, pathetic, heartbroken sod who had been dumped for another man. A man who didn’t have his wealth, or famous name, or maybe even his looks, but had somehow won over the woman he loved. And had done it in a matter of weeks, no less, destroying a relationship that had lasted over a year, a relationship that he thought was solid as stone.

Vivian had always been crazy about him. It had been mutual. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even after being together for so long. Vivian understood his situation, the pressure he was under from his father. She had always been so supportive.

And now she didn’t love him anymore.

Arthur spent the first couple days in a blessedly numb alcoholic stupor. Leon, bless his heart, was a true friend, but he had never been good at dealing with emotions. His response to Arthur’s heartache (and all emotional dilemmas, really) was to get them both good and plastered until they couldn’t even remember Vivian’s name. It had worked for the first night or two. He drank till he passed out, woke up, drank some more, and forgot.

But then Monday morning had dawned, cold and harsh, and he was pulled back to the reality that was his life. A life where he was a pathetic, brokenhearted loser. And now he had a massive hangover to add to his problems, and still had classes to attend. If anything, he felt worse than ever.

Other people weren’t helping matters. Word spread fast around campus, as he knew it would. But that didn’t prepare him for the reality of the whispers and pointing and barely-concealed stares. People loved juicy gossip like this, especially when it was painful or embarrassing. He was sure that his pain was bringing amusement to others, maybe even satisfaction. Those fuckers.

Some were not content to simply observe his drama from afar, but were instead determined to use the situation to their advantage. Arthur hadn’t even been broken up for 24 hours when he started receiving calls and texts from girls he barely knew, offering to “comfort” him. God, they weren’t even subtle about it. What was wrong with girls these days?

But it was really the last thing on Earth Arthur wanted right then. He didn’t need anyone else expecting anything from him or using him or trying to get on his good side. He felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear, and maybe reemerge when he felt human again. Which was actually more of an ‘if’ than a ‘when.’

And since no one seemed to understand that, he wished they would all just leave him the hell alone.

****

Merlin’s selfish joy was short lived. Arthur showed up to class on Monday looking like he had barely slept, maybe hadn’t even bathed. There were dark bags under his red-rimmed eyes, his clothes were rumpled, and his hair, usually so artfully tousled, was sticking up the way Merlin’s did when he fell asleep at his desk and woke up late for class. Arthur sat silently through the lecture, looking for once like he was paying about as much attention as Merlin. It looked like he had spent the weekend in an alcoholic haze and still hadn’t quite come out the other side yet.

Merlin found himself feeling miserable just watching him. Obviously he was taking this hard. Merlin felt guilty for his little moment of elation at Arthur’s expense. He hadn’t been in many relationships, never mind any serious ones. But he had still moped like a baby for a week when Will broke it off with him, even though they had only dated for barely a month and parted on amicable terms. He couldn’t imagine how Arthur felt, losing someone he had been so close to.

Whenever Merlin was heartbroken, he had Gwen there to spoil him and cheer him up, and he only now realized how lucky he was to have a true friend like that. Sure, sometimes they got drunk and drowned their misery, but Gwen would also do little things to cheer him up. Like cook his favorite dinner, or rent a whole bunch of romantic movies and pretend not to notice when he sobbed his way through half of them.

What Arthur needed, Merlin thought, was a small gesture to cheer him up, something without agenda or motive. He didn’t know Arthur well enough to offer him any kind of comfort, but surely he could do _something_. Just a little something to make him smile, to make it just a tiny bit easier.

****

Merlin put his plan into action the very next class. He ran it by Gwen first, just to make sure that it wasn’t weird, because sometimes what he found normal and what other people found normal were vastly different (apparently average people did not consider an all-night LAN session to be a ‘date,’ for example. That had been awkward.). Gwen assured him it was sweet, and told him he was doing a very noble thing. Merlin didn’t know about _noble_ , but he knew his heart was in the right place, at least.

Before class, Merlin went to the campus convenience store and grabbed an energy drink and a candy bar. They were the same brand Arthur often brought to class with him to keep awake when economics proved less stimulating than caffeine. Merlin felt a bit like a creepy stalker for knowing this, but it wasn’t like he knew what brand of underwear Arthur wore or anything. This was totally innocuous knowledge, and he just happened to be…observant.

He arrived at the classroom half an hour early, before the other students started filing in. There were no assigned seats, but after the first few classes everyone basically stayed in the same spot by unspoken agreement. Merlin had memorized which desk Arthur sat at, three rows ahead and two to the right of his own.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped the drink and candy bar out of his bag and placed them on the desk. Then he pulled a folded note from his pocket.

He had spent hours the night before agonizing over what to write. He didn’t want to sound creepy or overly personal, just cheerful and friendly. He had probably crumpled up a dozen possibilities before settling on something upbeat but vague and forbidding himself from thinking about it any further. He used the notepad that Gwen had given him last Christmas, the one he pretended was embarrassing and girly, but secretly found adorable. He hoped Arthur might agree.

Merlin took a deep breath, putting the note down and walking away before he could change his mind. He left the classroom and waited outside till the rest of the students started filing in, slipping to the back as casually as he could, pointedly _not_ looking at Arthur’s desk in case he might spontaneously combust (which Gwen assured him was just an urban legend, but Merlin still wasn’t convinced. It seemed like the kind of thing that could happen to him, knowing his luck.).

****

Arthur was running late, as he always seemed to be lately. He showed up just before the professor called for attention to start the roll. He was in a daze, yet again, still reeling from the bottle of whiskey Leon had coaxed him into sharing the night before. That had been an disastrously bad idea, and he vaguely remembered sobbing into Leon’s shoulder and possibly trying to spoon him. But at the time he hadn’t been able to think of a good reason _not_ to get shitfaced, and he knew he could count on Leon to never talk about what may-or-may-not-have transpired, ever. They would both take it to their graves.

Arthur slipped quickly into his seat, trying not to call attention to himself. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice the items sitting on his desk until he went to put his bag down. At first he was confused. He turned to the guy sitting next to him and whispered as quietly as he could, asking if someone was sitting in this seat, or had left their stuff there. It was odd, since Arthur always sat here. But maybe another student had claimed it first today. He was late, after all. The boy just shrugged, clearly not interested.

Arthur pushed the items to the side, figuring whoever left them might come back. But then he noticed the folded slip of paper sitting between the can and the candy bar (his favorites, he abruptly noticed). He was suddenly very curious. His favorite snack, and a folded note. If someone had left the items by accident they wouldn’t leave a note, would they? That seemed to indicate that it had been left purposely. But for him? Well, it _was_ his seat.

Arthur debated for a moment. If it was someone else’s stuff, then he didn’t want to go snooping. But if it _was_ meant for him…

Eventually curiosity won out over manners, as it usually did. Arthur unfolded the paper and examined it.

  


  
For a moment all he could do was stare. It was…weird, definitely (a narwhal? what the fuck?) but also…strangely cute. He felt an unbidden smile tugging at his lips. It took him a minute to notice that he was doing it. He hadn’t smiled in over a week, not since _that_ day. But the more he looked at the stupid doodle, the more he couldn’t help himself. He felt a chuckle rising in his chest but managed to cover it with a choked-off cough.

It was weird, but Arthur did feel somehow…better. Not that a silly note and a little gift instantly mended an epically broken heart, but it counted for something. It was sweet, and considerate, something no one else had bothered to do for him. Arthur felt obscenely grateful for such a little thing.

He folded the note carefully and placed it in his pocket. For some reason he felt like it was important not to lose it, that it would be a useful reminder of something good amid these totally shite days. A little talisman against the depths of despair. Or something.

After that, class was easier to deal with. He could almost pay attention again, managing to scribble down a few notes and not look like a brain-dead zombie. The energy drink definitely helped on that front.

The end of class approached and it suddenly struck Arthur that he had no way of saying thank you to his anonymous benefactor. And for some reason it felt extremely important to let his secret friend know that he appreciated the gesture. It was common courtesy, at least, and Arthur had been raised to be a gentleman (or more like a prince, Leon claimed). But there were over 30 students in the room, and it could be any one of them. Actually, there was no guarantee they were even in this course at all.

He decided to use their own tactic and hope it would work. Arthur pulled out a scrap of paper from his notebook and scribbled a short note, pausing to consider before adding another line. He wasn’t sure how exactly to convey his gratitude, he had never been good at that type of thing. But he was reasonably sure it would get the message across.

When class was over he gathered his things and dropped the note on his desk, hoping against hope that it would find its way to the right person.

****

Merlin almost couldn’t bear to watch Arthur read the note. He didn’t think he could take it if Arthur scoffed, or crumpled it up. Not that he had anything personal riding on this, since Arthur would never know it was him. But still, this felt like a crucial moment, with the power to crush his poor, pathetic ego forever (that in itself was probably pathetic, but he tried not to think about it).

But then Arthur had _smiled_. Not one of his full, glorious smiles that could light up the whole damn campus. It was more of a slight quirk of his lips, accompanied by a quick shuddering of his shoulders, like he was suppressing a laugh.

Oh God. Merlin was in heaven. He must have died, probably from forgetting to breathe, because he was definitely in heaven.

Arthur had just smiled, almost _laughed_ , at something he had done. Well, he didn’t know Merlin had done it, but that didn’t matter, did it? He made Arthur smile. He felt like he had climbed Everest or cured cancer. What was next? End world hunger? No problem. He’d tackle that after lunch.

And then Arthur refolded the note and slipped it in his back pocket, with that little smirk still on his lips, and Merlin tried not to think too much about the arse hidden beneath that pocket, while congratulating himself on being something of a genius. He couldn’t wait to recount every detail to Gwen.

Merlin couldn’t possibly pay attention to a word of the lecture that day. He spent the entire class watching Arthur intently. Arthur was slightly more alert now than he had been in class for the past week. He didn’t participate like he had before, but he was taking notes again, at least, and looked engaged in the lecture. Merlin couldn’t help but feel like it had just a tiny bit to do with him. The thought filled him with warm feelings he couldn’t quite name. He wondered if Gwen felt like this whenever she cheered people up, because if so he might just get addicted to being nice.

At the end of the class Merlin was forced to stop staring so he could collect his things. When he glanced back up, Arthur was already gone. But on his desk was a small folded piece of paper.

For a brief moment Merlin’s heart sank down into his shoes. He had seen Arthur put the note in his pocket, so what was it doing back on the desk now? Had Arthur decided not to keep it after all?

Merlin tried to be discreet as he walked by the desk on his way out of the classroom. No one else seemed to even notice the paper. He paused by Arthur’s seat and realized that it wasn’t his note after all; the paper was a little bigger and was lined. Curiosity propelled his hand forward before he could stop himself, and he grabbed the note, unfolding it with slightly trembling hands.

  


Merlin stared at it with unseeing eyes for several seconds before he processed the message. _Thanks_. Arthur. Had said thanks. To him. Holy _fuck_.

Merlin was fairly sure that if he didn’t sit down soon, his traitorous knees were going to collapse under him, because suddenly his head was spinning and it was hard to breathe. _Thanks_. He didn’t think any word had ever sounded better.

Of courses it was tempered slightly by the amended “I think.” Leave it to Arthur to manage to be condescending while saying thank you. Still, that made it feel all the more genuine. It made Merlin happier than any eloquent words could.

Merlin re-folded the note, placed it carefully in the front pocket of his jeans and left the classroom, trying not to skip down the hallway. He knew he was smiling like a madman, but for once he didn’t really care if anyone was looking at him weird. What did it matter what anyone else thought? Princely, stuck up Arthur Pendragon had thanked him. Today was indeed a day for the history books. This most definitely called for celebratory ice cream.

****

Leon returned to his and Arthur’s shared dorm room after dinner that night, a contraband bottle of vodka hidden beneath his jacket. Arthur took one look and groaned. There was no way he could get shitfaced again tonight. And not just because he was afraid of embarrassing himself and injuring what was left of his manly pride once again.

He had barely eaten proper food in days, and if he kept subsisting solely on alcohol and crisps, he was pretty sure he was going to die a very premature death. And while a few days ago that thought may have sounded comforting, he was less inclined to purposely sabotage himself now that his head was slightly clearer.

Leon seemed to understand Arthur’s wordless groan (how did he always do that?), and actually seemed a bit relieved himself. He flopped down on his bed, running a hand through his hair and examined his friend casually. That gaze was much more penetrating than it appeared, and Arthur knew he was being carefully appraised.

“Feeling better today?” Leon asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t keeping close tabs on Arthur’s health and sanity.

Arthur gave him the strongest grin he could muster, which was still a pathetic imitation of a real smile, but was certainly a step up from drunken sobbing.

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, leaning back in his desk chair and abandoning his half-finished homework. “Today was…not so terrible.”

Leon looked relieved. Only then did Arthur realize how much he had probably put his friend through over the past week, having to look after him and keep him from doing anything reckless (like calling Vivian every 5 minutes to leave her drunken hateful voicemails), all while listening to his constant grousing. Leon might not be good with the whole talking thing, but the man deserved a medal for being there when it counted. Arthur would have to think of a suitably lavish gesture of gratitude.

Leon continued to examine him, assessing him with sharp eyes. Apparently he was waiting for further elaboration of this sudden change in Arthur’s mood.

Arthur sighed and decided he may as well tell Leon the whole story. He would probably find it amusing, what with his strange, dry sense of humor. He pulled the note from his pocket and handed it over without a word.

Leon arched a curious eyebrow, but accepted the proffered note silently and unfolded the paper, looking it over. Just as Arthur had expected, he let out a sharp bark of laughter before shifting his gaze back to Arthur, eyes full of unspoken questions but dancing with amusement.

“Someone left it on my desk today,” Arthur explained, taking the paper and placing it carefully back in his pocket.

Leon smiled in his cryptic way that usually meant he knew something Arthur didn’t, or realized something Arthur probably should have. Arthur generally hated that look, since it never seemed to bode well for him.

“You don’t know who?” Leon asked, smile still curving his lips.

“I have no idea,” Arthur sighed, knowing his grin was mirroring Leon’s own. It was twice now that the note had made him grin today. It was unprecedented.

Arthur felt a twinge of suspicion at Leon’s know-it-all look. “It wasn’t you or the guys, was it?” he asked. Because for some reason that made it seem less special and made him feel a twinge of disappointment. It also meant the guys would tease him mercilessly for taking it to heart.

“Really, Arthur? Do you think I would draw a…what the hell was that?”

“A narwhal,” Arthur replied matter-of-factly, and Leon only grinned wider.

“Yeah, definitely not me, mate. But it seems someone’s looking out for you. That’s cool.” And Arthur had to agree, it was…cool.

“Well,” Leon continued, now that they both seemed to be in a pretty good mood, “guess this means we don’t have to get drunk tonight? Thank God, because my liver is about to jump ship and abandon me, mate. What do you say to a pizza and some mindless action movies instead?”

Hmmm, greasy food and lots of gore. The perfect balm for a weary soul. His best friend really did know him too well.

Arthur readily agreed, and they headed out together. He patted his pocket once just to make sure the note was still safely tucked inside.

Today definitely felt like a step forward, if only a small one, out of his bottomless whirlpool of self-pity. At the very least he would not have a hangover tomorrow, and that in itself seemed like the promise of good things to come.

****

“Soooooo, tell me, tell me, tell me!” Gwen gushed in that high pitched voice reserved for cute animals and dishing over Merlin’s (sadly non-existent) love life.

Gwen and Merlin were cozied up in her dorm room since her roommate (the lovely but shy Freya) was out for the evening, and they could gab and squeal (well, only Gwen squealed, honest) to their hearts’ content.

Merlin tried to look terribly put-upon, but couldn’t suppress a wide grin, which sent Gwen into further fits of wordless shrieks.

“Everything went according to plan. I put the stuff on his desk before class, and no one else noticed. For a minute I almost thought he wasn’t coming, and I was ready to have a very manly panic attack,” (Gwen gave him her best ‘yeah, sure’ look at that) “when finally he showed up. And then I very nearly had a panic attack anyway.”

Gwen laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately. Sometimes Merlin was sure she treated him like a dog, petting him and feeding him and spoiling him. Not that he minded terribly.

“And what did he do?” she prodded impatiently.

Merlin grinned again at the memory. “He opened the note, and then…he smiled. Smiled! Well, kind of smiled. It was more like a smirky kinda grin.” Which he then tried to imitate for her, only on Merlin it looked ridiculous and a bit deranged. But it launched Gwen into another fit of laughter.

“I sure hope he didn’t smile like _that_ , dear,” she teased, and then patted Merlin’s hair again playfully when he pretended to pout at her abuse.

“Well, I’d say it went well then,” she concluded, looking pleased and a bit breathless.

But then Merlin shot her his best mischievous grin, and Gwen raised her eyebrows, silently prompting him to give up whatever details he was withholding. She was like a mother when she used that look, there was no way he could resist her commands.

“That’s not the best part. Well, it was a really _good_ part, brilliant in fact, but then…” he paused for dramatic effect and Gwen elbowed him in the ribs. Merlin loved to keep her in suspense, because he knew she hated it.

“…He left me a note in return,” he concluded, and watched with satisfaction as Gwen’s face morphed into a look of excited surprise.

“He what?!” she was practically shouting, shaking his arm so energetically he was afraid it might snap off. “Show me, show me!” she demanded insistently, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Merlin pulled the note from his pocket and unfolded it (for probably the 50th time that day, not that she needed to know that) and handed it over, watching her with an expectant smile.

Gwen took a glance at the note and erupted into sputtering laughter. “Oh, that is Arthur all right,” she managed to choke out between gasps. Gwen’s boyfriend Lance was footy mates with Arthur, so she occasionally went out with the group, though she hadn’t spoken directly to Arthur more than a handful of times. It still made Merlin extremely jealous and he had more than once tried to convince Lance to dump Gwen and date him instead (jokingly of course. Well, at least half-jokingly. Lance was a rather attractive bloke in his own right).

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself and handed the note back to Merlin, who returned it to the snug safety of his pocket. Gwen was smiling at him in that sweet motherly way and Merlin knew she was feeling sappy and sentimental.

“You did a very sweet thing,” Gwen told him, a hand patting him softly on the knee. Merlin slung and arm around her shoulder and pulled her into an affectionate hug.

“It seems you’re rubbing off on me after all,” he teased, though he honestly meant it. Hanging around Gwen seemed to have that affect on people, her sweetness seeping out and infecting everyone around her.

“I think this calls for ice cream?” she asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. Merlin jumped up like an excited puppy (dammit, maybe he was a dog after all).

“You read my mind like always. Shall we go grab Lance?” Gwen agreed, and they set off for their favorite shop.

Today felt like a step forward, in an odd way. Not that it really brought him any closer to Arthur, who still had no idea who he was. But Merlin felt the satisfaction of a deed well done, and well rewarded.

He thought back to that small smile, remembering how it had made something thrum contentedly deep inside of him. Maybe this was something he was meant to do, to cheer Arthur up. Plans started to swirl in his head. If he could manage it again…well. Such thoughts were better left until after ice cream.


	2. Chapter 2

Tuesday night Merlin couldn’t sleep. His mind kept wandering back to that last class, to watching Arthur read the note and _smile_. It still made his chest tingle just thinking about it.

He gave up on pretending to sleep and pulled himself out of bed, going to his desk and removing Arthur’s note from where he had carefully folded it and placed it in his wallet (for safekeeping, he claimed, but Gwen said that he just liked the thought of something of Arthur’s touching his ass. She wasn’t entirely wrong.). He glanced at it again, though he already had every inch of it memorized, every crease of the paper, every stroke of pen. Still, looking at it made him feel content.

Since his discussion with Gwen, he had been thinking about what to do next. Obviously Arthur wasn’t annoyed by his gesture, but would doing it again be too presumptuous? He didn’t want to risk his luck a second time.

Then again maybe it was worth a shot. It was still anonymous, after all. If Arthur did find it too creepy, well that would be the end of it, and he would never have to know who it was. Merlin had nothing at all to lose.

And just maybe he could make Arthur smile again. Just the tiniest possibility seemed worth the risk of secret heartbreak and disappointment. In which case Gwen would probably comfort him and make him lasagna and ice cream. Then they could watch Bridget Jones and squeal over Colin Firth together. Okay, so this was looking like a win-win scenario. More Arthur smiles, or more Colin Firth.

That decided it. Merlin pulled out his notepad, mulling over what to say. He’d already said the obvious ‘cheer up’, now he would have to think of a way to do just that. There was this joke Gwen had told him recently… it was cheesy, but it just might be silly enough to be perfect.

Mission accomplished, Merlin tucked the note into his bag and climbed back into bed. His mind was so full of hypothetical scenarios, that it took him a long time to finally drop off to sleep, only to have his dreams filled with the object of his anxiety and hope.

****

Arthur arrived at class Wednesday morning feeling better than he would have thought possible just a few short days ago. It was amazing what a full night’s sleep and some real food could do. He still wasn’t in the best of moods, but that was hard when everyone was staring at him like some freak show exhibit.

It still hurt, and his chest ached every time he so much as thought Vivian’s name. But he had come to the point of acceptance, where he no longer plotted how to win her back, or how to get his revenge (he had alternated between the two, depending on the depth of his despondency and level of drunkenness).

When Arthur arrived at his seat there was another candy bar, accompanied by another note. He was pleasantly surprised; he had figured the other note was just a one-shot deal. He had expected that to be the end of it, a funny little memory he would hold on to when he looked back at these dark days.

But he couldn’t deny that the sight of that note made his lips quirk in anticipation. He sat down and took out his things, taking his time so as not to seem too eager. He had been too surprised to think about it much the last time, but he supposed the anonymous note-leaver had to be in this class, if they knew where he sat.

He took a covert glance around the room, looking to see if anyone was paying attention to him. But everyone seemed to be either checking their mobiles and chatting with friends or pulling out their notebooks and preparing for class. No one was paying Arthur any particular mind.

When he was sure no one was watching, Arthur grabbed the note and unfolded it, scanning it eagerly.

 

  


 

This time he did laugh out loud, in a quiet burst that sounded almost like a sneeze. He couldn’t help it, it had caught him off guard before he could stop himself. A few people in the seats around his turned to stare, and Arthur slid the note underneath his books, clearing his throat and trying to look nonchalant.

It was just so _cheesy_ , he couldn’t possibly _not_ laugh. It was the kind of joke his friend Lance would tell, so wholesome and cutesy. And that wonky little polar bear did just what it said; it broke the ice. At least Arthur felt like something was thawing inside of him, though that could just be the flush creeping up his neck as he stole another peak at the note, hand over his mouth to hold in any more girly-type giggles.

Arthur kept the note sitting on his desk through the lecture, glancing down at it periodically and trying not to smile too obviously so the professor wouldn’t get suspicious. Arthur knew he should be paying attention now that he was completely sober and alert for once. But it was hard to do when his mind kept wandering back to the note, and whoever had written it.

As the end of class approached Arthur pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled a quick reply. It seemed his pen-pal had gotten his last note, since they had bothered to leave another (or maybe they were just the dogged type). So this time he felt pretty sure it would make it to the intended recipient, whoever they were.

Arthur folded his new note and put it in his pocket, leaving the other behind as he gathered his things. He looked around the classroom again as he left, but still no one seemed to be watching him (well, no more than the usual curious glances he received lately). He shrugged and shouldered his bag, smiling to himself as he left the room.

****

Merlin felt even more on edge this time, if that was even possible. When Arthur noticed the note he looked around the room suspiciously, and Merlin did his best to pretend he _wasn’t_ watching like a hawk (or creepy-stalker-person), scribbling gibberish in his notebook, head bent.

But then Arthur opened the note, and _laughed_. No smothered chuckle this time, it was a real, genuine laugh. But it was tragically cut short, as Arthur seemed to remember that he was in the middle of a crowded classroom, and laughing to yourself was usually considered weird (Merlin should know— he got sketchy looks every time he read Christopher Moore books in the library, but come on, there was a _zombie Santa_. Who wouldn’t laugh?).

Merlin felt his face flush and hunched lower in his desk so no one would notice. Laughing was such a commonplace action, but somehow when Arthur did it (especially over _his_ note) Merlin’s heart rate doubled, dangerously close to palpitations. He wondered if maybe you actually could die from happiness. It might not be such a bad way to go.

Arthur had cleared his throat and tried to look smooth, but Merlin watched as a small smirk returned to his lips, and stayed there through the rest of class. Merlin didn’t think he had ever been more proud of anything in his life—not even the elementary science fair he had won by making a badass model T-Rex. Making Arthur laugh definitely topped his list of lifetime accomplishments.

By the end of class Merlin was in such a happy daze that he nearly forgot to wonder whether Arthur would leave him another note today. It almost seemed like too much to expect more after that glorious laugh, and Merlin didn’t want to seem greedy. Fate had already been plenty kind to him today. In fact, he was probably due for some divine smiting, if there was any balance to the universe.

But as he stood to collect his things he saw the note, sitting expectantly in the middle of Arthur’s empty desk, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning and rushing forward maybe a little too eagerly to claim it. This time he shoved it in his pocket and all but ran from the classroom, looking for a quiet place to savor it.

He ended up in the bathroom, which wasn’t exactly private, but at least he could close the stall door and no one would see him when he inevitably had a bit of a freak out which may or may not have involved flailing limbs and smothered squeals (very manly squeals, obviously).

He pulled the note from his pocket and opened it.

 

  


 

Merlin grinned like a Cheshire cat, feeling like his face might actually split in two from the force of it. It wasn’t actually _thanks_ this time, and for some reason that made Merlin feel good, like they had moved beyond favors and gratitude. Merlin could almost hear Arthur’s sarcastic voice, trying to sound withering while he was still grinning that silly little smirk he had worn in class.

He was fairly certain the message was meant to be teasing, and that made his chest ache in a whole new way. Because teasing was something you did with friends. Merlin didn’t want to get ahead of himself and start concocting creepy daydreams about slumber parties and matching BFF necklaces, but he couldn’t help the little thrill of happiness. Sure, someone like Merlin could never be _real_ friends with someone like Arthur, but maybe, in this little way, they could be something like.

There was absolutely no question this time whether Merlin would attempt this again. He was already plotting what to put in the next note.

****

Arthur showed up to footy practice that afternoon in a rather good mood. Some fresh air and exercise sounded like just the thing he needed right now. He could run around with the guys, get good and dirty, tire himself out, and probably have a better night’s sleep than he had in a while. Life on the field was uncomplicated, and that’s what Arthur wanted right now.

“You girls ready to have your arses handed to you?” he asked with mock disdain, strolling up to Leon, Gwaine, and Elyan. Lance was still off making kissy faces with his girlfriend, and Arthur pointedly ignored them, still not ready to watch other people’s stupid-couple bliss yet.

The three gaped at him like he’d just suggested they shave their heads or have a Roman-style orgy (Gwaine would no doubt find the first option much more outrageous).

Leon was the first to find his voice, while the other two continued to look bemused and uncertain.

“I didn’t know you’d be joining us today,” Leon said cautiously, like he was afraid Arthur’s lighthearted mood might crumble back into uncontrolled sobbing (which had _not_ happened, dammit, Leon!) if he pushed too hard.

Gwaine apparently did not catch on to his subtlety. “Yeah, mate, I thought you were still hiding out in your room, watching chick flicks and devouring chocolate like a lovesick girl.”

Elyan punched him in the arm, but Gwaine continued to grin playfully. The man didn’t even know the meaning of tact, but fortunately Arthur usually found his candor more amusing than annoying. A few days ago he might have punched Gwaine in the face, but today he could almost muster up a self-deprecating laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur retorted, “when Elena dumped your sorry ass you moped about for weeks. Which was longer than you actually dated, if I recall.”

But Gwaine just smiled wistfully. “Ah, the lovely Elena. Took me several bottles of top shelf whiskey to get over that one. And of course Sophia helped.”

The others guffawed. Gwaine’s womanizing was legendary around campus, but somehow there always seemed to be an endless supply of women willing to risk whatever diseases he had probably picked up over the years. It was something about the hair, he’d been told. Arthur loved the idiot as a mate, but he just didn’t get it.

“Well, glad you’re back, Arthur, because we’ve been absolute rubbish without you,” Elyan offered, with a warm pat on the shoulder.

“Lance!” Leon called, and their teammate reluctantly dragged his attention away from his girlfriend, Gwen, whom Arthur knew only vaguely, but thought was a very sweet girl. She and Lance were well suited, because he was the most sensitive soul Arthur had ever met.

Lance had offered to have deep, soul-searching talks with Arthur after the break-up, but at the time Arthur hadn’t wanted to _have_ feelings, much less talk about them. But now he thought he might be ready to take Lance up on that offer. Maybe he’d invite him out fora pint tonight, if Lance could bear to tear himself away from his girlfriend for one evening.

“Arthur,” Lance greeted warmly, pulling him into a very manly hug, complete with vigorous back thumping. “You look well,” he said, and Arthur knew he meant it, because Lance wasn’t one to lie. He smiled his thanks and quietly proposed his pub idea while the others set about warming up. Lance agreed, with that smile that meant he knew exactly what Arthur was about, but wouldn’t mention it, for the sake of his pride. Lance might actually be a saint.

It was only practice, but they all played energetically, with the excitement of getting back on the field after too long off. Gwaine loved to bounce the ball off his head at any opportunity, sometimes leaping sidelong just to do it, when a kick would have worked perfectly well. But it made the others laugh to watch his less-than-graceful acrobatics, so he kept doing it. Gwaine was still the class clown who would do anything for attention.

Arthur got duly sweaty and tired out, just as planned. By the time they finished, he felt too exhausted to even remember to feel depressed.

Gwen brought the boys some towels and water, smiling mysteriously at Arthur as she handed him one. Arthur had no idea what to make of that smile, but thought maybe Lance had filled her in on their plans and what they really entailed. No doubt Gwen would highly approve of some touchy-feely emotion talk. She seemed to be watching him closely, so he gave her a smile and thanks, which made her giggle and turn away. He really would never understand girls.

Lance agreed to go back to the dorms for a shower and meet at the pub in an hour. Leon threw his arm over Arthur’s shoulder as they headed back to their room, ruffling his sweaty hair. Arthur tried to protest, but just ended up laughing.

“So,” Leon asked, “what’s this good mood all about? Not that I’m not happy as shit that you’re back to yourself, trust me, you were no fun when you were moping.”

Arthur sighed, not even bothering to deny his friend’s accusations. He figured he may as well tell Leon about today’s development, knowing he couldn’t hide it from his friend for long anyway (the man was some kind of super-sleuth).

“I got another note today,” Arthur admitted, and Leon stopped dead, arm still around Arthur.

“No shit?” he asked, looking somewhere between amused and concerned. Arthur didn’t know what that was about.

“Yeah, just another silly drawing. But, I dunno, it made me laugh. I can’t explain it, it just made me feel good. More like myself, you know?”

Leon was examining him closely, arm sliding back to his side.

“You still don’t know who it is?” he asked, looking cautious.

“No idea,” Arthur confirmed. Leon’s hesitant reaction was dampening his good mood a bit.

“You don’t…” Leon hesitated, fidgeting a bit awkwardly, but looking Arthur in the eye, as he always did. “You don’t think it’s a bit weird? The first time it was cute, but why would someone keep doing it? What do they have to gain?”

For some reason Leon’s insinuation made Arthur angry, like he was somehow polluting the notes with his suspicion. “They don’t _want_ anything, Leon, they’re just being nice. Is it hard to believe that someone might just want to do something kind for someone else?”

Leon shrugged noncommittally. “I admit, silly notes are a very weird tactic to get into someone’s pants. But you just never know, man. All I’m saying is you should be cautious.”

Arthur could see that Leon was concerned for him. He had just seen Arthur fall apart, after all, he supposed his apprehension was justified. But somehow Arthur knew Leon was wrong. He couldn’t say _why_ , and Leon’s suggestion may even be the logical reaction to the situation. But he couldn’t believe that the person drawing him silly polar bears had ulterior motives. At least he really wanted to believe they didn’t. That seemed important.

“I know it’s a little unusual, but it’s not like they’ve approached me or anything. I don’t think there’s any reason to worry. But,” he added to appease Leon’s skeptical look, “I will be cautious. You don’t have to worry.” Not that Leon would ever stop worrying about him, that had always been his job as Arthur’s best friend, ever since they were kids. But maybe he would back off a little and keep his worries to himself.

“All right, mate, that’s all I ask,” Leon agreed with a shrug, letting the topic drop and turning to analyzing their upcoming footy match. He assured Arthur that it was a “sure thing,” since everyone knew Cenred’s team was total shit and didn’t stand a chance against The Knights (Lance had chosen the name for their team, of course. Arthur couldn’t remember why they had left it up to him).

****

Merlin caught up with Gwen that night for dinner. Lance was off with Arthur, she informed him, and Merlin complained about how he was Gwen’s “other man” who she only hung out with when her boyfriend was busy. She smacked him on the arm and told him it was his own fault for being gay, or they could have made the best cheesy couple ever. Which was ridiculous and true at the same time.

“Besides,” Gwen continued, “you can’t be mad at me when I have Exclusive Arthur News to report.”

Merlin smiled. Gwen was an enabler, feeding his hopeless obsession with details she picked up from Lance and his mates. He wasn’t sure if he should thank her or scold her. But his curiosity always won out over his moral qualms.

He looked at her expectantly, folding his arms on the table top and leaning forward. “Spill,” he commanded, and that’s all it took to send her off, gushing a mile a minute.

“Arthur came to footy practice today, and he was smiling and laughing, and he was in such a good mood! And he even asked Lance out, which you know he’s been avoiding ever since, well.” She was grinning like she had just divulged the secrets of the universe.

“Um, yeah, I kinda knew that already. Well, not the Lance part, but that’s good,” he added at her disappointed frown. He knew she prided herself on getting the gossip first, and he didn’t want to deprive her of that. But her dissatisfaction quickly morphed into suspicion.

“How did you know?” she demanded, staring at him with those penetrating eyes he could never hide anything from.

“I, um, might have had something to do with it? Well, just a bit. Maybe. I don’t want to get too full of myself, or anything.”

Her suspicious frown deepened. “You did it again, didn’t you?” she surmised, not even sounding surprised. Merlin’s only reply was a sheepish grin. “Oh, you adorable, besotted fool,” she grinned in response, glare melting away.

Merlin blushed, not even bothering to deny her accusations. Because if he was getting so excited over such a little thing he was most definitely besotted, and a complete fool.

“I couldn’t help myself, Gwen, you can understand, right? I just had to see if I could do it again, make him smile. And I did, and oh, it was glorious, you should have been there,” he gushed.

Gwen was watching him with that look that meant Merlin was being unbearably adorable and she wanted to scoop him up and cuddle him like a fuzzy little bunny rabbit. Which she only refrained from doing because they were in the middle of the cafeteria.

“Yeah, I get it. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same,” she admitted, making Merlin smile. They were both the hopeless romantic type, it was part of what made their friendship work so well, because they could gush to each other unreservedly. Before Lance had finally worked up the courage to ask Gwen out Merlin had put up with months of her ranting about how amazing he was, and how dashing and noble and handsome, and how she wanted to marry him and have his babies (actually, he still had to listen to all of that. Only now he had to listen to Lance’s enamored babbling as well. They really were the most sickeningly sweet couple _of all time._ ).

“So, you’re going to do it again,” she said, not even phrasing it as a question, since she knew Merlin well enough not to have any doubts.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “don’t think I could stop now if I wanted to.” Gwen just patted his hand.

“If you were straight we would so be married, honey, I don’t even care if you objected and I had to drag you to the altar in handcuffs.” Merlin burst out in laughter at this, and Gwen joined in. It wasn’t the first time they’d discussed their hypothetical marriage (where they would grow old gossiping like teenagers while drinking tea the way Gwen made it just right and trying to play matchmaker for everyone they knew). “Don’t tell Lance, of course,” she added, and Merlin pantomimed zipping his lips, which was hard because he couldn’t keep them closed long enough around the giggles.

****

Arthur showed up to class Friday morning feeling more excited than anyone rightly should about economics. But he didn’t care about the lecture. He was burning with curiosity, waiting to see if there would be another note on his desk. He didn’t want to admit it, but he would be fairly disappointed if there wasn’t. Okay, more than fairly. Maybe even epically. But he tried not to show it.

He had told the whole story to Lance the other night, and he had been much more understanding than Leon. Lance hadn’t been all that surprised, which Arthur found very strange, because he didn’t think these types of things were all that commonplace. Then again, maybe to romantically inclined people like Lance a couple notes were no big deal. He probably wrote epic love letters on a regular basis (which definitely did not include doodles of polar animals, Arthur was sure).

But Lance just gave him a friendly smile and assured him that the whole thing sounded very sweet, and he was sure the note-sender had the purest of intentions. Lance was entirely too trusting in general, but he reasoned that someone who used a squid notepad couldn’t possibly have secret, nefarious plans. Arthur found this logic sound.

He spotted the note as soon as he entered the classroom. There was no candy bar or drink today, just the folded slip of paper, but he didn’t care. That was the important part, anyway. He tried to act casual as he hurried over to his seat, opening the note before he even bothered to get his things out

 

  


 

There was no way Arthur could help it; he collapsed in a fit of laughter, bent over his desk to hide his face, which he was pretty sure was turning red from the lack of oxygen getting to his lungs. He knew people were looking at him, but he really didn’t care. There were tears threatening to spill out of his eyes, and he had to use all his willpower to keep them in, because he didn’t want people to misunderstand and think he’d been _crying_ , not with everything that had happened lately.

When he finally managed to pull himself together he glanced around the room, and sure enough a majority of the class was staring at him. Most were looking like they thought he was a freak (which was a sensation he was getting used to), but a few were smiling, whether in amusement or because they thought he’d finally cracked, he couldn’t tell. But it was impossible to infer which of those people was responsible for his mirth. Damn.

Arthur pulled out his notepad and wrote his response right away, folding it up and leaving it under his books for later. He put the new note in his pocket, because there was no way he could get through class with it sitting in front of him, daring him not to break into inappropriate laughter in the middle of a discussion on capital. Having to look at Professor Smith and _not_ think of the drawing was going to be hard enough. It felt like a test of willpower, to see how long he could keep a straight face before he cracked. Maybe the note-sender _was_ an evil genius.

He left the class that day feeling lighter than he had in a while, and decided to go find Gwaine, because it was Friday afternoon, and he could do with some of the idiot’s silly shenanigans to keep up his mood. Gwaine getting drunk and hitting on anything with legs never failed to amuse him, and he figured he could probably enjoy a drink tonight without getting himself obliterated. It was time to get out and have a little fun again.

****

Merlin met Gwen and Lance at the cinema later that night. He often crashed their dates, because neither of them honestly minded, they liked having Merlin around. They were like an old married couple, treating Merlin like their child who they doted on and spoiled rotten. His presence never inhibited them from acting all sickly sweet and romantic, and while Merlin pretended to gag at their corny lines and puppy dog eyes, he actually found it comforting. He liked the fact that couples like Lance and Gwen actually existed, even if he doubted he would ever find that for himself.

“So, give me the update,” Gwen demanded while they grabbed seats, Lance gallantly waiting in the long concessions line to get them a giant tub of popcorn (they always got the largest size because Gwen and Merlin would inevitably waste half of it trying to throw it into each other’s mouths).

Merlin pulled the latest reply note from his pocket, offering it up to her delighted squeals.

Gwen looked it over with a bit of confusion.

 

  


 

“What does that mean?” she asked, eying Merlin suspiciously.

“I drew him a picture of Professor Smith,” he said, like that explained everything.

She furrowed her brow for a moment, thinking. “The one you said looks like a walrus?” she asked, and he nodded eagerly. Gwen broke into laughter. “You drew him as a walrus, didn’t you? Oh, Merlin,” she giggled, because she really did know him too well.

“I think he liked it,” Merlin explained, because the note may sound a little cold, but he knew Arthur was being playful. No one in class could deny that Arthur had found the drawing hilarious (though, of course, no one else knew what his laughter was about, and that made Merlin feel special and happy and a whole thesaurus full of corny adjectives).

“You, dear,” Gwen said, ruffling his hair, “have some kind of gift. A really weird, quirky gift, but a gift nonetheless,” she said, and Merlin knew she meant it as a compliment in her own eccentric way.

Lance joined them then, and recognized Gwen’s schmoopy happy look. “More developments, then?” he asked, since Gwen had been keeping him apprised of the situation. Lance was hearing this story from two perspectives now, though he firmly refused to tell Merlin what Arthur had said about it, since he deemed it an unfair advantage for Merlin. And Lance was all about fairness and honor.

“Oh, just Merlin falling hopelessly further in love,” Gwen said with a dreamy sigh.

“Well, good luck, my friend,” Lance said sincerely, patting Merlin on the head as he squeezed by to sit on Gwen’s other side, placing the bucket of popcorn in her lap. Merlin immediately dug in, to get as many of the super-buttery top kernels as possible, while Gwen tried to fend him off and grab them for herself. Lance just looked on with amusement, letting them have the best pieces for themselves, true gentleman that he was.

Merlin was ready to enjoy an evening with his best friends, and if he seemed a bit distracted tonight, well, they would understand, because they were considerate like that. (And of course they enjoyed exchanging little secret-couples-language smiles about him when he wasn’t looking.) But with a whole weekend before his next class, Merlin was determined to distract himself and have some fun. Even if his mind was hopelessly full of a bratty blond and his life-changing laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin had started out determined to enjoy his weekend and keep himself distracted. So of course Friday night slid into the wee hours of Saturday at an excruciatingly slow pace. He swore time was standing still, just to mock him, because every time he opened his eyes minutes had passed instead of hours.

Merlin never wished for a weekend to pass so quickly before. Every other uni student in the country reveled in the weekly rituals of gluttony and debauchery, hoping it would never end. Yet Merlin found himself yearning for Monday morning so he could be in economics class. If he hadn’t realized it before, that alone would have been unequivocal proof that he was a lovesick fool.

He was so screwed.

Normally, Merlin loved the weekends just as much as any other sane person. He would loiter in his favorite book store and read the graphic novels he couldn’t afford to buy until the employees started giving him suspicious looks. Then, he might challenge Gwen and Lance to an all-you-can-eat Chinese food extravaganza. The restaurant owners trembled in fear when they saw Lance come in because the boy could pack away more food than seemed physically possible. Gwen and Merlin would look on with a mix of awe and disgust. Needless to say, Lance always won, but the impossible challenge was part of the fun. (And Gwen encouraged any opportunity to fatten Merlin up a bit. She and his mother were definitely in cahoots.)

But now it was only Saturday morning and Merlin was moping about in his dorm room trying to decide if he should bother to get dressed or just give up and stay in bed. He didn’t feel like doing anything other than maybe having an old school Transformers marathon. He hadn’t done that in a couple weeks.

He was about to pop in the first DVD when his mobile rang, the shrill tones of Lady Gaga piercing his brain. He knew it was Gwen without looking. She had selected that ringtone for herself, reasoning that since Merlin disliked it so much he would pick up right away just to make it stop. What she hadn’t considered was how much it embarrassed him every single time it rang in public (it practically shouted his sexuality to everyone in a 50 yard radius, even though he really wasn’t a trashy pop kind of gay boy).

“Stop moping and come out with me,” Gwen said before he even had a chance to say hello.

He sighed. “I am _not_ moping, Gwen, why would you think that?” Though his whiny tone betrayed him, and he knew she heard it too.

“Because I know you too well, dear. Right now you’re probably still in your pajamas, grumbling and sighing dramatically, planning an all-day DVD marathon.”

“Transformers,” he agreed grudgingly. She did know him too well.

“Look, sweetie, you can stay in bed all day and pine-- no, don’t even deny that,” she preempted him. “Or you can come out with me, have a super fun time, and get your mind off of Arthur for a while.”

Merlin had to admit that did sound better than being left alone with his thoughts all day. It would kill some time, at the very least. If he had a whole weekend to waste he may as well have the pleasure of Gwen’s company.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, though he already knew it was a done deal, whatever she answered.

“Shoe shopping,” she said, all bubbly and excited like she had just suggested a party and not thinly veiled torture.

Merlin didn’t bother to hide his loud groan. “Gwen, you know shoes and I don’t get along! Have you forgotten about the Great Stiletto Debacle of 2008? Do you remember how disastrously that turned out?”

“Don’t be such a baby,” she chided, not losing any of her enthusiasm despite Merlin’s obvious distress. “It was just a little scratch, honestly.”

“The scar on my foot would beg to differ, Gwen. _Scar_. Scratches don’t leave scars.” He could hear her muffled giggling. Obviously, she had no sympathy for his trauma.

“I’ll buy you curry,” she said, in that sing-song voice one would used when trying to bribe a misbehaving dog with a biscuit. Damn, she really knew his weaknesses. He wondered if there was anything she couldn’t get him to do with the right push.

He gave another groan which she seemed to take that as a sign of crumbling resistance. “Besides, it will help take your mind off of Arthur. You know how numb your mind goes in the presence of _fashion_ ,” she added matter-of-factly.

That was true; his shoe-induced misery was guaranteed to take his mind off of the Secret Arthur Cheer-Up Plan (okay, he liked giving things official-sounding titles, though Gwen complained that he always made them too long). Well, it would work for a few hours, anyway. Either way, it was better than watching his alarm clock blink and hurling abuses at it.

“...Give me half an hour,” he sighed. Her victory squeal was so loud that he had to pull the phone away from his ear and hang up. Fine, he decided, he would soldier through a few hours of torture for Gwen’s sake.

After that he would only have one more day to kill until class.

…He really was pathetic.

****

Without realizing it, Merlin had started to measure time in notes. There was no longer Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday; there was Note Day 1, Note Day 2, or No-Note-Day-That-Doesn’t-Matter-Why-Aren’t-You-Over-Yet (or ‘off days’, for short). They all seemed to go by in a blur, little else registering besides the most recent exchange. And, of course, the carefully cataloged reactions.

Merlin felt like one of those wildlife observers who followed prides of lions around the savanna and studied their behavioral patterns. By now he was getting good at predicting Arthur’s reactions. He knew what kind of joke would make him smile, or how to get him to giggle in a decidedly undignified fashion. He could probably host his own damn show on the BBC (he was sure it would be a hit, since Arthur was definitely more fun to look at than lions). So what did his degree in literature matter when he could have a PhD in _The Expressions and Reactions of Arthur Pendragon in his Natural Habitat_? (Okay, he might have to work on the title. But the principle still stood.)

Merlin could barely remember anything else about the past couple days after his shoe-induced coma. It had rained one day, he thought, maybe even two (he vaguely remembered Gwen wearing her wellies with the little yellow ducks that he _might_ secretly covet). They had gone for pizza one night (it was a Note Day, so it must have been Monday). He had vague recollections of doing homework, though probably very poorly. (That would probably catch up with him later. He was going to get lectures from both Gwen and his mother when he finally got his midterm grades, and he didn’t think they would be placated by his PhD idea.)

It seemed the only thing that could temporarily break him out of his Arthur-induced daze was a new episode of Doctor Who, because, well, _duh_ , Matt Smith. Maybe Merlin did have a thing for strong jaw lines.

But what he remembered most vividly were the notes.

 ~~Monday~~ Note Day 1 went something like this:

  


  


  
Which had earned a huffed chuckle and head shake from Arthur, who apparently did not know about the amazing lives of mollusks.

To which Arthur had replied:

  


  


  
Merlin wasn’t buying his disparaging tone— he was pretty sure Arthur was impressed with his wisdom, much as he tried to hide it.

Then ~~Wednesday~~ Note Day 2 had continued with:

  


  


Which Merlin thought was a sensible answer. He earned several gruff chuckles for that one, and a smile that looked suspiciously fond.

Merlin expected another snarky reply, but what he received was:

  


  


  
Which Merlin was currently staring at, curled up in a plush library chair, eyes refusing to correctly process the information before them. He was definitely reading it wrong, wasn’t he? Or at the very least misinterpreting it. Because it sounded like…it _sounded like_ Arthur was trying to flirt with him. Which was utterly ridiculous. Arthur had no idea who he was. He would never…

Merlin had to stop thinking about it, because his traitorous brain was leading him down all kinds of dangerous paths. Images of pizza dates, holding hands in the cinema, and snuggling together on the couch watching Top Gear repeats (because Arthur seemed like the kind of manly bloke who would like Top Gear) swirled through his head at dizzying speeds. His brain seemed to like this possibility very much, and was swiftly trying to convince Merlin that it was not only plausible, but _true_.

No. He had to stop. Because that’s not what Arthur meant. It was a joke, obviously. Maybe even sarcastic, like the rest of the notes had been so far. His rational mind told him to forget about it, to laugh it off, to continue on as he had been. But that damn irrational, schmoopy, romantic part of his mind was winning the civil war raging inside his head.

Merlin sighed and folded up the note, returning it to his pocket where it couldn’t mock him quite so loudly. This called for an expert second opinion.

He pulled out his phone and shot Gwen a text: _Ice cream emergency. Stat_.

Her reply came within seconds: _pint or gallon sized emergency?_

That was why he loved her.

****

Arthur found himself looking forward to mornings he had economics class. It was a bit absurd, no one actually _liked_ economics, not even the people who specialized in it. But every morning when he showed up that little note would be waiting on his desk, greeting him like an old friend.

It was starting to get a bit pathetic. Arthur felt like a teenage girl in one of those horrid romance movies Morgana tried to make him watch in high school. If he were going to be stuck in a romantic comedy, couldn’t he at least be the dashing male lead? Was that too much to ask? Instead he was the naïve girl falling for a total stranger.

Well, he wouldn’t say _falling for_. That was way too cheesy, and he was definitely _not_ a girl. But he had to admit, he felt some sort of weird connection with his mystery pen pal. They knew exactly how to make him smile, how to make him laugh. Hell, he’d had friends for years he didn’t get him like that. That meant something, didn’t it?

It should have been a little creepy that a stranger could know him so well. They could be a stalker for all he knew, planning to lure him into a false sense of security with cutesy notes, then pounce when he least suspected it, kidnapping him and hiding him in a secluded basement so they could dress him up and play house and keep him down there for years and years until he forgot him own name and answered only to Mr. Snookums. Okay, so maybe he watched too many horror movies, but it could totally happen.

Only this didn’t feel creepy. It felt comforting and exciting and altogether intriguing. Arthur might have been able to downplay his interest before and pretend it wasn’t affecting him even if Gwaine teased him about ‘dopey smiles’ and Leon was keeping a closer eye on him than usual. They were just overreacting.

But then today he’d found himself _flirting_. With someone he didn’t know. Through a _note_ , for God’s sake. So much for playing it cool. He was totally and utterly lost, and he knew it. It was time to take action before this could get even more out of hand. What he needed was some impartial advice.

Since Leon was already convinced the ‘Mystery Doodler’ (which he thought sounded like a cool Scooby Doo villain name) was a crazy stalking weirdo, it was no use going to him for help. He would no doubt remind Arthur of horror movie scenarios involving smashed ankles and boiling bunnies and warn him to steer clear. In Secret Leon Language that might mean ‘I care about you, mate,’ but it wasn’t exactly productive right now.

That left Lance. Surely, an expert on all things emotional and romantic would be able to give some sound advice on the subject. Hell, Lance had probably been in a crazy situation like this before. Arthur had no doubt he had his share of secret admirers and borderline stalkers. He couldn’t even blame them, really.

****

They met up that night to grab a pizza off-campus (not that Arthur was paranoid, but this didn’t seem like a conversation for the crowded cafeteria, where anyone might stop by). Lance greeted him warmly, with a smile that grew even larger when he saw the extra large sausage pizza Arthur had ordered.

Arthur didn’t know how to broach the topic, but Lance seemed to know what was on his mind (was Arthur that transparent, or did his friends just know him too well? He sincerely hoped it was the latter).

“How are things going with your mystery paramour?” Lance asked without preamble. Arthur almost choked on his pizza. Leave it to Lance to make him sound like a romance novel hero (which was ridiculous, because if anyone were to star in a bodice-ripper it would most definitely be Lance. He was the kind of guy to have _paramours_.).

“Uh, well,” Arthur fumbled articulately. He sighed, wiping his hands on a napkin and leaning back, settling himself in for a long talk. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, since that seemed the simplest place to start.

“What is the problem? Are you not getting along?” Lance asked, polishing off another slice (Arthur calculated it to be his sixth). He wiped his hands and followed Arthur’s lead, leaning his forearms on the table and examining Arthur carefully.

“No, actually, it’s the opposite.” Lance wrinkled his brow in confusion and Arthur let out a sigh. Was he crazy for thinking getting along with someone was a problem? Apparently so.

“So you like them?” Lance asked, getting to the heart of the matter as usual. He looked both concerned and pleased, and Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Yeah, I think so. But I don’t even know them. I mean, they could be...anyone,” he finished lamely, waving his arms in an encompassing gesture. He didn’t want to tell Lance about his stalker theory, because it sounded crazy even in his own head, so there was no way he was admitting it out loud.

“It’s true,” Lance nodded sagely. “You don’t know much about them. Except that they are kind and obviously care for you. That sounds like a firm foundation for friendship to me.” He was watching Arthur carefully, like he was waiting for a reaction. It was a little unnerving.

Arthur tried not to blush when Lance mentioned friendship. He was not ready to admit that his own thoughts had already strayed far beyond that point. He wasn’t sure when he had started to think about the person behind the notes, imagining who they might be, what they might look like. Of course his imagination preferred to paint his mystery friend as a beautiful but shy girl who turned out to be everything he had always been looking for (okay, so he had watched _a lot_ of Morgana’s cheesy movies back in the day. The girl knew how to threaten.). It wasn’t _that_ far-fetched, was it? Was he crazy for even considering it?

But instead he said, “Sometimes I feel like I have some kind of connection with them, like they know me, better even than some of my friends. Which sounds crazy, I know, but I can’t help feeling like...”

“It’s destiny?” Lance filled in, sending Arthur into a fit of sputtering laughter. Maybe Lance was the author of those romance novels, as well as the dashing hero. It was just so ridiculous, and he said it with a completely straight face. He had joined in the laughter, but Arthur could detect a slight blush creeping up Lance’s tanned neck. He guessed that his friend had probably been thinking of his own girlfriend in that moment rather than Arthur’s situation.

“Well, maybe not destiny,” Lance amended, once Arthur had settled back down. “But maybe this was meant to be, in a way. Maybe all of _this_ happened for a reason.” His jovial smile was gone, replaced by a concerned frown. Arthur wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but then it sunk in.

Vivian.

The thought shocked Arthur like an unexpected slap to the face. She had been the last thing on his mind lately. He actually hadn’t even thought of her in days. Which was crazy, because only a few short weeks ago he had been ready to drink himself into a coma at the mention of her name. Now all that remained was a feeling of regret for what might have been. The surge of overwhelming pain was gone, dulled to a slight twinge somewhere in the back of his mind. It was almost strange how quickly it had passed; his heartbreak had been as violent as his love, but then it faded, like a spell had been lifted. ...Or something like that (Lance-the-secret-romance-novelist could probably come up with a dozen suitable metaphors).

Lance was talking again, but Arthur was hardly listening, his mind lagging as it tried to plow through the mass of thoughts and feelings he had been ignoring for so long.

“...When one door closes, another door opens,” he thought he heard, though that was probably wrong, because he didn’t think that phrase had anything to do with romance.

“Arthur,” Lance said, calling his attention back to the present with a sharp snap that Arthur could almost feel physically. He focused his gaze back on Lance, who was hovering close, concern creasing his brow. “Are you alright?” he asked gently.

Arthur nodded, shaking his head a few times to clear away his thoughts. “Yeah, fine,” he replied, though he knew Lance wasn’t buying it. “I just...haven’t thought about... _her_ in a while. It’s weird, almost. She used to be all I could think about, but now...”

“Now you’ve moved on,” Lance supplied with a small smile. Arthur nodded. It was a strange thought, one he would have found impossible a few weeks ago, yet it was true.

Lance clapped him on the shoulder gently. “That’s good, mate. I’m happy for you. It’s best to move on with your life.” Lance would have made an excellent counselor, Arthur thought. It was a shame he was studying music and not psychology. Arthur could just picture him with lovesick patients pouring their hearts out, Lance calmly and kindly talking them through it. He had done it so many times for their friends, he was practically a professional already.

“Still,” Lance continued, “it might be best to take it slow, give yourself time. Hearts take time to mend, even after the visible wounds have faded.” This time Arthur was sure he had ripped that from a novel (possibly one he had written himself). But it was still sound advice.

Arthur had a lot to think about. He knew he wasn’t completely recovered from the break-up yet, even if the pain had faded (which was largely due to his pen pal, another point in their favor). The thought of opening himself up to further disappointment or rejection was hard to swallow right now. He had to weigh the possible risk with the possible gain (sometimes his business background came in handy).

Lance let him be for a while, finishing off the last slice of pizza and ordering another one to go (for his girlfriend, he explained, though Arthur had a sneaking suspicion he would probably end up eating half of it).

They parted ways with a gruff hug and reminders to be ready for the football match this weekend.

Arthur headed back to campus feeling a bit dazed. He had hoped Lance would help him sort this mess out, to reach some kind of decision. But now it seemed more complicated than ever.

He hadn’t really considered what he wanted from this situation. Sure, he’d been nursing a few sappy daydreams, but the reality wasn’t quite so rosy. He would be an idiot to put his heart on the line again when it was still on the mend. There were no guarantee that this would turn out to be _anything_ , and yet he was getting his hopes so high.

Despite his many qualms, he knew he still wanted to meet the mysterious person who had become such a friend to him already. Whatever became of it he at least owed them an honest thanks and an offer of friendship. He knew with _absolute_ certainty that he wanted this person in his life, for more than 5 minutes three mornings a week, more than just in his mind and on a slip of paper.

“Fuck,” Arthur swore aloud, pushing a hand through his hair in frustration. He was definitely over-thinking this. Since when did he get so bogged down in _feelings_ and self-doubt? Arthur was a man of action. When Arthur was attracted to someone he went for it. If it didn’t work out, he shrugged it off and moved on. He wasn’t some preteen with his first crush. He was a mature, confident adult.

So the circumstances may be slightly different than he was used to. Whatever. He was Arthur Pendragon, dammit. He imagined what Morgana would say. Probably “Man up, Pendragon.” (Of course she could never actually know about this, but thinking of her stern decisiveness helped.)

Right, that decided it. The time for talking was over. Now was the time for action.

****

“So...” Gwen coaxed, poking Merlin with her toes from across the couch. They were stretched out together in her suite’s common room, enjoying their ice cream straight from the containers with the biggest spoons they could find.

When Gwen had received Merlin’s text she figured it had something to do with the Secret Arthur Plan, or whatever official title he had given it (they were always too long to remember). But she had let it be for now, allowing Merlin to wallow in his ice cream until he felt like talking. That, along with some _Pride and Prejudice_ , seemed to have broken him out of his deer-in-the-headlights daze.

Merlin grabbed Gwen’s foot and tickled it lightly, causing her to squirm and shriek. He knew how much she hated that, but it made them both smile and loosened the last of the tension hanging between them.

Merlin sighed, dragging his latest note from his pocket. This is how these conversations always went lately (it felt like it had been going on for years and not just a few weeks): Merlin would show her the note without explanation, leaving it up to her to decipher what it meant, and how Merlin felt about it. Though that wasn’t very hard, since the boy was an open book, especially to those who knew him well.

She looked at the note and back at Merlin. She could understand instantly what he was feeling. He was curled into himself miserably, bottom lip pouting exactly the way it had when he was 10 and she refused to play knights and dragons with him (he always made her be the knight, when she wanted to be a princess).

She re-read the note. It was definitely...flirty. She didn’t know Arthur all that well, but she knew he tended to be playful, at least with girls. He was charming when he wanted to be. But she didn’t know what he could mean by this. He probably didn’t mean anything serious, this kind of teasing was second nature to him.

Poor Merlin would likely jump on this as a sign of mutual feelings. She sighed softly. She wanted it to be true just as much as he did, but she couldn’t give him false hope. As far as she knew Arthur had never dated a guy. He was playful and teasing with his male friends, including Lance, but it was different from flirting.

Merlin was watching her, waiting for a reaction.

“It’s...I think it’s a good sign,” she offered weakly, and she knew it wasn’t convincing. Merlin just groaned and hugged a pillow to his chest.

“When I read it I thought...well, I thought he was flirting with me,” Merlin admitted, face partially hidden behind the cushion. It made Gwen’s heart break a little. If it wouldn’t give Merlin away, she would find Arthur right now and beat him up for carelessly playing with her best friend’s emotions. She had supported Merlin in this little project of his, but now she was starting to think it might have been a bad idea. Merlin could get himself seriously hurt. If that happened she _would_ beat up Arthur, kicking him square in the groin, and see how much he flirted then.

Merlin didn’t need to know any of this, of course, he wouldn’t like the thought of Gwen being mad at anyone on his behalf. Instead, she placed a comforting hand on the closest part of his leg she could reach and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“It does sound flirty, but that’s just what Arthur’s like, Merlin. Not that it doesn’t mean you’re not special or anything,” she added hastily, seeing his crestfallen face. “Just...just don’t read too much into it, okay? It’s a good sign, anyway, that he feels he can joke with you like that. It just might not mean anything...more,” she finished lamely.

He nodded at her, she wasn’t sure if in understanding or agreement. He seemed to accept her words though she was sure they weren’t what he wanted to hear. She badly wanted to be able to tell him everything was going to work out and there would be rainbows and flowers and unicorns (Merlin loved unicorns, dear boy), just to see him smile. But she was his best friend, and sometimes it was her duty to be the unpleasant voice of reason.

She grabbed the discarded ice cream from the coffee table and handed it back to Merlin. He accepted it with a sigh, and they went back to watching Mr. Darcy be a gorgeous prat (maybe this wasn’t the best movie for a lovesick Merlin after all but he didn’t seem to mind). When all else failed they could temporarily numb their sadness with ice cream.

****

Merlin slumped into class Friday morning, feeling nervous and worn out. He had agonized over Arthur’s last note for the past two days, trying to settle on a suitable reply. Gwen’s assessment had been hard to hear, but he knew it was true. He was reading too much into this, because it’s what he wanted to believe. He had to step back a little and remember not to get too swept up in his daydreams.

In the end he had decided not to reply directly to that note, instead dropping that line of conversation and choosing something neutral. He didn’t want to seem like he was purposely avoiding the topic, but Arthur had probably forgotten already anyway. It’s not like he really expected an answer, right?

Merlin watched as Arthur read today’s note. He smiled a little, but it was pale compared to his usual reaction. He seemed tense this morning, on edge. Merlin couldn’t help but feel like maybe he had made the wrong choice or had come to the wrong conclusion. And that made him miserable. For once, he didn’t want to sit through class and watch Arthur, he wanted to go back to his room and curl up in his bed and forget about his stupid daydreams and Arthur’s stupid gorgeous smile.

For a little while, anyway.

****

Arthur was so nervous about leaving his reply note this morning that he almost forgot about the one waiting for him. He opened it up with less enthusiasm than usual.

  


  


He chuckled, but it felt dry in his throat. It was a pretty good one, actually. Leon would probably find it hysterical (he was beginning to think the Mystery Doodler and Leon would get along famously, another thought that made his chest ache with hope).

The weight of what he was about to do was sitting heavy on his mind. He was realizing now that his next action might risk all of this. He was so sure that his pen pal would agree to his proposal, but what if they didn’t? What if Arthur was pushing too much and they cut ties altogether? This could possibly be the last note he would ever receive. It shouldn’t bother him nearly as much as it did, the rational part of his mind told him. But that didn’t stop his breath from hitching painfully.

He was restless through class, foot tapping nervously, fingers drumming against his desk. He couldn’t wait for the professor to finish his tedious lecture so he could drop his note and flee like the coward he obviously was. If he didn’t do it soon he was going to lose his nerve and forget the whole thing, continuing on in this weird uncertain limbo for the rest of the damn term, or until he snapped. Whichever came first.

Finally, the professor wrapped it up and Arthur had his things packed and ready to go in a matter of seconds. He dropped the note and made a dash for the door, not daring to look back just in case someone was watching him.

As he walked across the quad Arthur finally came to a devastating realization: today was Friday. He wouldn’t have class again until Monday. He had a whole weekend of waiting and uncertainty ahead of him.

Shit.

****

Gwen and Lance took Merlin to the pub that night. It seemed like the only thing they could do in this situation. He was babbling incoherently about Arthur and the notes, and while Lance was fairly certain he knew what this was about, Gwen was completely lost. They thought maybe a couple pints would help calm Merlin down and loosen him up enough to talk in full sentences, in a pitch actually audible to humans.

That plan had worked well initially. After one beer Merlin was feeling calm enough to take out the most recent note and pass it between them.

  


  


  
Well, that explained why he was freaking out. Gwen remembered how nervous he had been the other night when he suspected Arthur’s note might be flirty, but this was undeniable: Arthur was definitely interested in some way. Gwen couldn’t really blame Merlin for being a bit overwhelmed (well, ‘a bit’ might be too generous, since Merlin was currently having some kind of minor emotional breakdown on his bar stool).

“He’s going to hate me,” Merlin was moaning, forehead resting against the cool table top, face flushed from a combination of alcohol and mortification. Gwen carded her fingers through his hair in a way he usually found comforting.

“Of course he isn’t, sweetheart, why would you think that? You two will get on brilliantly.”

“No we won’t,” Merlin moped, raising his head to take another few gulps of lager, then letting it fall back with a dull _thunk_. “Arthur is…Arthur. He’s so cool and confident and bloody gorgeous, and he’ll take one look at me and wonder why he wasted all this time. He’ll hate me!” Merlin moaned with increased fervor. He took another deep drink and Gwen thought maybe it was time to cut him off. He had passed the point of loose and tipsy, and now the alcohol was just sinking him deeper into this morose mood.

“Merlin,” Lance chided, subtly pulling the glass out of his reach. “Arthur is a good man. I think it’s only fair that you give him a chance. He might be just as nervous about this as you are, you know.”

Merlin just scoffed. Arthur, nervous? It was ridiculous. Arthur could have anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers (like The Fonz, Merlin thought hazily, trying to muster up an impression that left Gwen looking at him like he’d finally lost it).

He knew Lance was right, that he should be fair and give Arthur a chance. But just because Arthur’s intentions might be good, that didn’t mean this wouldn’t end in a Hindenberg-esque catastrophe. Maybe he was blowing this out of proportion, but right now he felt volatile, like a hydrogen explosion waiting to rip apart his comfortable, complacent life and leave it all a fiery wreck.

“I think it’s about time we got you home, my friend,” Lance said, throwing another one of his pointed looks at Gwen, which Merlin couldn’t even attempt to translate in this state. He thought it meant something like ‘why are we friends with a loser like this?’ But knowing Lance he probably used a kinder phrase like ‘unfortunate soul’ instead of ‘loser’. Even in his silent-eyebrow-language Lance would be a perfect gentleman.

Lance and Gwen pulled him up, each twining an arm under his shoulders to support him. Merlin wanted to protest that he could walk on his own, but his feet seemed to have other ideas, tripping over themselves in their hurry to prove him wrong. Of course. His mind had already rebelled against him, now his feet were jumping ship. He was one big mess. Next thing he knew his penis would be betraying him by deciding it liked girls. The way his life was going today, he wouldn’t even be surprised.

They managed to stumble the short distance back to campus without Merlin pulling all three of them down to the hard pavement. He tried to convince them several times to just leave him to rot on the sidewalk, but they had persisted in dragging him along. Maybe they weren’t going to stop being his friends after all. Or maybe they were just looking for the right spot to dump him so no one would find his body.

The last thing Merlin remembered was Gwen tucking him into his bed, laying out several bottles of water and some aspirin on his desk, and kissing him on the forehead the way his mother used to. He wanted to tell Gwen that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and that if she wanted he would forget all about stupid bloody Arthur and marry her after all, since maybe his penis was going to decide it liked women anyway.

This felt like an important thing to tell her, but it came out sounding more like “uuuuuuuugh Arthur, blaaaaaaaargh.” He hoped she understood.

****

Merlin woke up feeling like there was a wild Euro rave going on behind his eyeballs, complete with giant sub-woofers and strobe lights. His tongue felt fuzzy, his limbs were heavy, and he could barely roll himself over to grope around for the bottle of water on his desk. (Even more difficult to do since he was determined not to open his eyes ever again. Or at least until the pulsing drum beats faded.).

He remembered everything about last night, which, for once, made him feel even worse, because he remembered exactly what an brat he had been to his friends. They had tried to cheer him up and he had moped and whined and complained the whole time. And they still brought him home and took care of him, without giving into the obvious temptation to leave him in the road. He felt disgusted with himself.

And he still remembered the cause of his distress. He reached in his pocket, still wearing his clothes from the night before, and dug out the note that had sent him into such a tailspin of woe.

Arthur wanted to meet him. Arthur. Wanted. To. Meet. Him.

It was a disastrously bad idea. Even worse than that time in high school when his best mate Will had dared him to shave his head. He had looked like a bloody idiot for months.

And this would be exactly the same. Arthur might _think_ he wanted to meet him, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into. He would meet Merlin, realize that he was a nerdy loser who had nothing in common with him at all, and then Merlin would be forced to transfer schools to avoid eternal embarrassment and unrequited heartache. Even then, future students would tell epic stories of him, the Loser Guy Who Was Rejected By The Prince. He would become a campus legend, and a cautionary tale to all social upstarts.

Okay, maybe he should calm down and try to think about this rationally, before he launched into any more self-pitying rants. Though that was hard to do with his head still pounding. He popped the aspirin Gwen had laid out (really, the woman was genuine Mother Teresa material) and waited for it to kick in, focusing on breathing without hyperventilating at the mere thought of Arthur.

It was his own fault. He was the one who started this in the first place. He could have left it at that first note, content that he had cheered Arthur up, and then let it be, but he had gotten greedy. He wanted more contact, _wanted_ Arthur to notice him, didn’t he? Wasn’t that what this was all about? Even though he tried to tell himself that it was just about being nice and selfless and helping Arthur, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He wanted just that little bit of connection with Arthur, even if it could never be more.

Which it couldn’t. Because Arthur was popular. Because Arthur was normal. Because Arthur was _straight._

And maybe that was at the root of it. Because if he met Arthur, even if by some miracle they actually got along, all they could ever be was friends. And Merlin wanted so much more than that. His vapid daydreams had been replaced by a deep longing. The more Merlin watched him, the more he got to know Arthur’s personality through their little game, the more he couldn’t resist. Being Arthur’s friend without the possibility of ever having more would be pure torture.

Merlin had two choices, then: meet Arthur, possibly become his friend, then live in constant agony; or, be a total coward, continue the way things were, and still live his life pining for someone he could never have.

Buggering hell. This wasn’t a decision he could make without several cups of tea and strawberry smothered waffles. He pulled out his phone and texted Gwen through half-closed eyes. After last night the least he could do was treat them to breakfast. He glanced at his clock: 1 pm. Okay, brunch then.

He had until Monday to make his decision. Suddenly, the weekend seemed much too short.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday morning arrived far too soon for Merlin’s tastes. The weekend seemed like a blur of beer and waffles and too much time spent wallowing in his bed with the sheets pulled over his head, as if that could block out the rest of the world indefinitely. Of course, time had chosen this weekend to speed back up. It figured.

At least he had managed to apologize to Gwen and Lance. The three of them went out for brunch Saturday afternoon and he humbly begged their pardon, while plying them with endless plates of waffles and bacon (a sure way to win Lance’s heart, at least). They both assured Merlin that it was forgiven and forgotten, though Gwen couldn’t resist teasing him about some of the things he had said (he really didn’t remember ranting incoherently about his penis, and since there was no proof, he was going to stick with adamant denial).

With that settled, Lance had tried to steer the conversation back to the Arthur Issue and what Merlin was going to do. They hadn’t exactly been productive Friday night, what with Merlin completely in his cups, but Merlin refused to talk about that anymore. He subtly redirected the conversation to lemurs and the fascinating things he had learned from a recent nature program (Okay, maybe it wasn’t terribly subtle, but they were kind enough to take the hint and let the issue drop. Then again, Gwen was always easily distracted by talk of cute animals.).

Merlin’s mind hadn’t been so accommodating, though, and was constantly reminding him of his looming decision. Much as he tried to numb his brain with endless telly marathons (he’d managed to re-watch the entire _Firefly_ series in a day and a half), the knowledge of that decision was still there, like a persistent itch, niggling at the back of his mind.

Merlin had made his decision. He knew what he had to do, as much as some parts of his mind might seem to disagree. In fact, this whole split-mind thing was starting to become a problem. What would he do when he couldn’t even agree with himself on what to have for lunch? It had to stop.

Merlin dragged himself to class with a level of reluctance generally reserved for doctor visits and awkward family reunions. He had never dreaded going to class so much, even in the midst of exams. Merlin dropped his reply note on Arthur’s desk and slid into his seat, immediately burying his head in his arms. He didn’t want to watch today, but he couldn’t help himself; his eyes were magnetically pulled in Arthur’s direction.

Arthur showed up looking much like Merlin felt, which was a bit shocking. His usual flawless façade was slightly crumpled, like he had been in a rush this morning, or run his hands through his hair a little too vigorously. His brows were wrinkled in an uncharacteristic frown, the lines of his body tense. In fact, he looked downright _nervous_. Arthur Pendragon nervous about something silly like a note. Merlin was probably reading too much into things; it could be something else entirely that had Arthur on edge this morning, but when Arthur’s eyes fell on the note, he quickened his pace towards the desk and snatched it up eagerly.

Merlin decided he couldn’t watch anymore, and dropped his head back down, wishing with all his might that he could be anywhere else in the world right now. It hadn’t really occurred to Merlin that this might mean anything to Arthur, that he could actually be hurt by a refusal. He was _Arthur_ , for Christ’s sake, he had a million friends, what could one person’s rejection matter to him?

Yet he looked so vulnerable, and for the first time Merlin realized how selfish he had been. He had spent the weekend wallowing in self-pity, only thinking about his own feelings, his own potentially broken heart. He felt like a total prick.

****

Arthur hadn’t slept well Sunday night. All he could do was play out every possible scenario in his head and work out contingency plans for each outcome. If he could think about it rationally, like a footy match or a business deal, then it was easier to keep his emotions under control. This was a maneuver, a negotiation. An offer was made, it would be accepted or rejected, perhaps a counter offer would be put on the table. He would have to be prepared for any eventuality.

By the time Monday morning dawned he was on edge with every muscle primed like he was going into a boxing ring rather than a classroom. As soon as he entered the room he spotted the note sitting in its usual place on his desk and made a bee line for it. He felt a tiny knot in his chest loosen. At least they had bothered to respond, rather than standing him up entirely. It seemed like a hopeful sign. He sat down, dropping his bag hastily and opening the note, not even bothering to check if anyone was watching.

As soon as he read it his heart plummeted.

  


  


  
No, Arthur didn’t understand. Well, alright, maybe a little. If the other person was feeling even a small measure of the nervousness rattling around his ribs, then he could appreciate their hesitancy.

What he wanted to know was _why_. He knew he wasn’t wrong about there being some sort of connection between them. He had thought himself crazy at first, but it was too strong to ignore now. There had to be something special going on to make him feel this out of sorts from just a few notes. It seemed impossible that the other person couldn’t feel it as well. He felt like he had failed to measure up in some way, to prove himself trustworthy. It felt like a sharp jab to his gut.

Of course, Arthur had planned for this outcome as well, though he had tried not to dwell on it. He knew what he had to do: be polite, apologize for being intrusive, and try to salvage relations. That is what his father would do if a proposal were turned down by a prospective client. He had to at least try to keep the lines of communication open if there were to be any hope of future developments.

He really wasn’t ready to let this go. Even if it wasn’t going to lead anywhere further, which he was having trouble grasping at the moment, he still wanted to hold on to this fragile thread of friendship that felt so much like a lifeline.

Arthur made it through class by schooling his features to be calm and blank, not showing any sign of the roiling emotions underneath. It was something years with his father had taught him well. When class ended he left his reply and gathered his things. And if he lingered just a moment, scanning the classroom with mournful eyes, no one seemed to notice.

****

It felt like the longest two hours Merlin had ever sat through. Really, time needed to make up its mind and settle on a standard rhythm already.

His resolve not to watch Arthur had crumbled after the first few minutes, but when he finally looked up Arthur seemed composed, stoic even. He was watching the professor and scribbling down a few notes, as if nothing had happened at all. Merlin felt foolish for thinking Arthur would be so affected by this. Obviously, it was no big deal for him. Life went on as usual.

And, as usual, there was a note waiting for Merlin after class. He opened it with trepidation.

  


It was more formal than any of the past notes, but Merlin’s own reply had been rather stiff. It was to be expected, he supposed. He still felt tremendous relief. Arthur was okay with it, they could continue on as they had been. That was exactly what he wanted, right? So he wasn’t sure why he had an ache that felt suspiciously like regret.

Merlin pushed those thoughts away and tried to put his usual smile back in place, but it felt forced. He headed off to the library hoping a little reading would distract him. It was about time he got caught up on homework, anyway.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and shot Gwen a quick text: _It went fine, you can stop worrying now. I know you were, don’t deny it._

Her reply came a moment later: _I was not worrying…but I already baked your favorite cookies, just in case. You still have to eat them._

Which seemed only fair.

****

Arthur still felt out of sorts Tuesday afternoon, which was why he was complete rubbish in their match against Edwin’s team. Usually, Arthur was the Knights’ star player as well as their leader. He chose their tactics and kept all the members in sync; however, today was a disaster. He had already let numerous passes get intercepted, and missed several wide open goal shots. It wasn’t like Arthur to let anything distract him from the game. When he was on the pitch his mind was in the zone, and nothing mattered but the ball and his teammates. But today it was useless; he couldn’t keep focused long enough to make a solid play.

“Arthur!” Gwaine shouted at him as another pass went zooming by, eagerly grabbed up by an opponent and sent flying back down the field. Arthur sighed, mumbling curses to himself. For once, he just wanted the game to be over.

By the time the final whistle blew they had been thoroughly beaten by a team which shouldn’t have even been a challenge. He could tell the guys were frustrated with the loss, though most of them hid it well. Elyan patted Arthur on the shoulder and mumbled a weak “good game, mate,” before heading off with the others to collect his things.

Gwaine, as usual, was not so diplomatic. “What the hell was that, Arthur? You played like a bloody girl today.” There wasn’t any anger behind the words, though, only frustration and perhaps even a hint of amusement. Arthur could only shake his head and offer a half-hearted apology. It’s not like he could explain to Gwaine why he was so distracted.

Leon threw an arm around Gwaine and led him off to grab some water, giving Arthur a rueful look over his shoulder. Arthur mouthed a silent ‘thanks’ and Leon nodded. He could still hear Gwaine’s boisterous voice as they strode away, recounting every play made today as if it had been an epic battle, leaving Arthur alone with Lance, who was gathering up his things.

“You played well today,” Arthur offered. It was true, Lance had scored two of their three goals, while Arthur had scored none.

Lance smiled meekly, accepting Arthur’s praise without gloating. “It was a tough match,” he replied neutrally, and Arthur was grateful that at least _some_ of his friends had tact. He really wasn’t in the mood for more ribbing.

They gathered their gear in companionable silence, pulling off cleats and shin guards and stuffing everything into their gym bags. Lance reached down to pick up his change of clothes, and his wallet slipped out of the back pocket of his jeans.

Lance’s arms were full so Arthur leaned down to grab it for him. As he picked up the thick leather fold several items tumbled out and Lance laughed apologetically, muttering about how he needed to get himself organized one of these days.

As Arthur gathered up the loose coins and scraps of paper, one item in particular caught his eye. He could see a sliver of a familiar light purple color. It was none of his business, and yet something compelled him to unfold the slip of paper. His jaw almost dropped when he saw it.

  


  


Arthur could feel himself gaping, but Lance didn’t notice, continuing to gather up his things, giving Arthur an opportune moment to collect himself.

He tried to put his thoughts in some semblance of logical order: Lance had a note on the same paper his pen pal used. What were the odds that two people used that same note pad? It couldn’t be that common, he was fairy sure it wasn’t sold in any of the campus stores or local shops, but that didn’t mean it was necessarily unique.

He had a sudden wild thought: what if his pen pal _was actually Lance?_ But it was just too absurd and he quickly dismissed it. Beside the fact that Lance wasn’t in his economics class, it just wasn’t in his friend’s nature to be so roundabout and secretive. It couldn’t be Lance, but he had known about the whole pen pal situation right from the start. If he knew the identity of the person he would have said so, wouldn’t he? Lance was a good mate, he had been helping Arthur this whole time.

Still, the paper evidence was hard to ignore. Maybe Lance didn’t know them, but at the very least it might give him some kind of clue as to where his mystery friend shopped. Arthur decided to play it casual and see what he could find out (well, as casual as he could when his brain was going off like a siren and yelling at him that this could be a _big fucking deal_ ).

“What’s this?” Arthur asked, holding out the note and hoping Lance didn’t notice the catch in his voice.

Lance turned back, accepting the collected items from Arthur and quickly glancing at the note. “Oh, that. It’s Gwen’s birthday next week, and I have been strictly tasked with the sacred quest of picking up her cake,” he replied with a grin, turning back to pull on his trainers.

Arthur wasn’t sure how to continue without sounding suspicious. “That, uh, that paper, it’s pretty…unusual,” he said, and it didn’t sound nearly as smooth as it had in his head. Fortunately, Lance was too distracted to notice.

“Oh, yeah, Gwen bought that stationery for Merlin last Christmas. A special-order type of thing, I think. Why, you want some too?” he asked playfully, glancing up from his laces, and Arthur tried not to blush.

“Uh, no,” he covered gracelessly, “I thought maybe Morgana would like it. You know, seems…girly, I guess. So, uh, who is Merlin?” That was most definitely the opposite of smooth, and Lance was beginning to notice. He looked at Arthur a little strangely, like he suspected he may be suffering from exhaustion or heat stroke.

“I don’t know if that would really be Morgana’s style,” Lance commented honestly, and Arthur held his breath, afraid he was going to leave it at that and ignore the rest of his question. “She’s not really the ‘cute’ type, is she? But I guess Merlin likes that kind of stuff. Merlin is Gwen’s best mate,” Lance continued, noticing Arthur’s prodding look. He didn’t have a chance to elaborate any further because just then his cell phone vibrated, and he had to rifle through his messy bag to find it, excusing himself hurriedly.

 _Merlin_. His mystery pen pal, the person he’d been imagining and thinking about almost constantly. Finally, he had a name to put to the images in his mind.

But what the hell kind of name was _Merlin_ anyway? How tripped out did you have to be to name your kid after an ancient sorcerer? (Not that Arthur could really poke fingers there, but come on, at least Arthur was _normal_.)

Then another thought struck Arthur: was it even a guy? Lance hadn’t actually said, had he? People designated all kinds of names as unisex these days, especially the weird ones. Hell, he’d met girls named Ryan and Elliot, there was nothing to say this Merlin was definitely a guy, especially if they were Gwen’s best friend.

Dammit. This really didn’t solve anything, did it? He had a name, but he still didn’t know anything else. At least he could be fairly certain that this Merlin, whoever they were, was his mystery pen pal. Lance had said the paper was a special order. It had to be Merlin.

Of course that raised the issue of whether Lance had known about this all along. The thought that his friend had been lying to him, or at the very least withholding critical information, made him furious. But it was tempered by his current relief and excitement. He would probably have to confront the issue later, but right now he couldn’t dwell on it. Now that he’d finally gotten his wish, there was work to do.

****

Tuesday night Gwen picked Merlin up, practically dragging him from his dorm room. She had decided that they spent far too much time lately moping and thinking about the Arthur Situation. It was really getting pathetic. Now that Merlin was finally in a good mood again (or at least a tolerably happy mood) she was going to make the most of it.

Tuesday nights were Swing Dance nights. It wasn’t a very big or serious club, but for a few hours each week they would doll themselves up, goof off, and have a good time. That was exactly what Merlin needed.

Except that he hated Swing Club (well, he claimed he did, but Gwen was pretty sure most of his complaining was just for show). Merlin wasn’t a natural dancer with his uncanny lack of coordination and ungainly limbs, but Gwen found his efforts endearing, and when he stopped thinking and just went with the music he actually wasn’t half bad. Not nearly as good as Lance, of course, but he had an infectious happiness that made up for a lack of technical skill.

Plus, the boys in the club _loved_ him. They were always begging Gwen to bring Merlin by with her, as often as she could drag him into it. Gwen loved to tease Merlin about it, recounting to Lance how many boys had begged Merlin to dance, and how annoyed the girls were to be left without partners. Merlin usually spent half the night blushing furiously, unsure of what to do with all the attention, but his admirers just seemed to find that even more charming.

“Do we really have to?” Merlin was whining already, dragging his heels as they crossed the quad. Gwen was dressed up in her favorite fluffy poodle skirt, which she had made herself just for club nights. Merlin adamantly refused the full costume she had tried to get him into (though he had accepted the black and white wing tips, which looked completely adorable with the sweater vest she had physically forced on him. She had to admit, she had a bit of an eye for these things.).

“Yes, we _have to_ ” she chided in a sing-song voice, pulling him along by their linked arms. “You said you’d make it up to me for the Great Drunken Fiasco of Last Weekend, didn’t you?” she teased.

“You can’t go giving minor incidents like that official names!” Merlin protested, but it was too late.The Great Drunken Fiasco would go down in their college history. Gwen decided she would tell it to her grandchildren someday, when she told them stories about her and Uncle Merlin’s wild young days.

“Besides,” she continued, completely ignoring him, “you need to get out and meet some nice men.”

Merlin settled for discontented grumbling. He had already explained to Gwen a dozen times that they just weren’t his _type_ , but she was convinced this was just because he was hung up on Arthur, and that if he really tried he might fall for one of them after all.

When they reached the small practice hall the music was already blaring and couples were warming up. Heads turned to look as they entered, and Gwen was pretty sure she heard a few delighted squeals (Merlin must have heard them too, because he was blushing already).

Before she could move away to hang up her jacket, Merlin was gripping her tightly by the elbow and whispering in her ear, his face earnest. “Please don’t abandon me tonight,” he begged. “Please. You _know_ what happens!”

Gwen tried not to giggle at his obvious distress. “Oh, come on, Merlin, you know I have to share you. The boys will be so upset if they don’t get a turn!” With a quick mischievous smirk, she disappeared, off to say hello to her friends, leaving Merlin standing in the doorway.

Gwen watched with amusement as the more outgoing of the boys quickly stepped forward to greet him, and Merlin attempted to physically shrink back into the wall. She just _knew_ he was thinking about Harry Potter and wishing he had an invisibility cloak right now. Gwen understood that Merlin was shy, and that it was a little cruel to leave him to the wolves like that, but what Merlin needed was a confidence boost.

All this Arthur nonsense was starting to mess with his head, she could see it. The Merlin she had known all these years had never doubted himself like this. He desperately needed a reminder that there were plenty of guys out there who found him downright irresistible. Sod Arthur bloody Pendragon if he couldn’t see that.

Of course, Gwen knew it wasn’t quite so simple, and Merlin’s feelings ran a lot deeper than a simple crush. It would still do him good, however, to remind himself that there were more men in the world than one arrogant blond; men who would gladly worship him.

The idea _wasn’t_ to overwhelm him, though, so Gwen finally took pity and set off to rescue him, pulling him onto the floor for the next dance. Over the next two hours they danced and laughed until they could barely stand. Merlin seemed to pick the steps up again fairly quickly even though he hadn’t done it in months, and it only took a few songs before he found his rhythm. They attempted a few of the more complicated maneuvers, but gave it up after Merlin nearly dropped Gwen on her head (those stunts were better left to men with a little more brawn, anyway).

By the time the last song ended, they were both sweaty and exhausted and happy. Merlin had even loosened up enough to chat with some of the other club members. Gwen watched him as she gathered their coats; it was good to see that bright smile back on his face and she hoped it would last.

“So,” she asked, as they walked back to the dorms, “not so bad as you made it out to be, huh?”

“It’s not _terrible_ ,” he conceded, which Gwen accepted as a fair victory.

“And Michael, he was pretty good. You guys looked good together,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully. He laughed, but looked at her reproachfully.

“How many times have I told you not to try and set me up your dance friends? You know it’s strictly off limits,” he chastised, but it didn’t stop her from waggling her eyebrows and making childish kissy noises at him.

“Why do I put up with you?” he asked wistfully, as Gwen entwined her arm with his.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something about your penis liking me?” she giggled, swiftly ducking out of the way of Merlin’s elbow jab.

Gwen was willing to bet it would be a long time before Merlin would touch alcohol again.

****

Arthur arrived at class Wednesday morning with steeled determination. He now knew the name of his pen pal and he just had to find the face that went with it. Arthur had been wanting this moment so badly, to finally find out who his mysterious friend was. At the same time, the prospect was terrifying. He glanced around the room. It could be any of these people, and, to be honest, the thought of some of them made his stomach flop.

Arthur scrambled to his seat just as the professor was calling for attention. He picked up today’s note, glancing at it quickly so he could turn his attention back to the roll.

  


  
He laughed softly, but it came out sounding like a nervous giggle. He cleared his throat discreetly and stuck the note in his pocket.

Most of the list of names was just a blur, they meant nothing to Arthur. His ears were trained for one name, the only name that mattered, so the list seemed to be endlessly long today.

“Merlin Emrys,” Professor Smith finally droned, not even looking up from his lectern as a soft “here” sounded from the back of the room.

Arthur swiveled in his seat, entirely too eager to be discreet. He looked just in time to see someone pulling their arm back down, pen in their grip and bored look on their face.

Merlin Emrys.

Well, that answered one question: definitely a guy. Arthur thought he should probably be disappointed. He had always hoped it was a girl, after all, but he was too busy staring to really think much beyond _oh my God_.

Merlin Emrys was…well, _odd_ was the first word that came to mind. The boy was all angles, with long limbs that folded awkwardly under the short desk, and cheek bones so sharp they almost made him look gaunt. But there was something graceful about his features, his pale skin against his deep black hair and long dark eyelashes that made him look…ethereal. And his ears. Oh, God. Arthur had to cover his mouth to keep from chuckling, because they were just so _ridiculous_ and large, but somehow absolutely adorable, like a little mouse.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Merlin Emrys chose that exact moment to look up right at Arthur. Arthur’s heart almost stopped as he whipped back around in his seat, neck flushing guiltily. But not before he noticed how blue those eyes were, the shade of a stormy sky.

Wait a minute, what the hell? Did he really just think that? Here Arthur was, looking at _a guy_ , and not just any guy, his _secret pathetic crush_ , and he was using sappy comparisons that Lance would definitely approve of. Since when did Arthur think like that? And how was he ignoring the very obvious fact that Merlin was **a guy**?

Arthur felt himself start to panic as he stared down at his notebook with unseeing eyes. His thoughts were a million miles away (actually, no, they were a couple damn feet away, but it may as well be a million miles for all the good it did him). It was too much to wrap his mind around at the moment. First there was the shock of learning his pen pal’s name, then finding out he was actually a guy, and then, to top it all off, he was one of the most striking people Arthur had even seen. What was his brain supposed to do with all of this information at once?

Like a computer overloaded with data, it chose to take the safest route and shut down before permanent damage could occur. This would definitely require thorough examination and consideration later, but right now it was too much. He couldn’t trust himself not to have some kind of freak out in front of the whole class.

Instead, he tried to focus on the lecture, pointedly ignoring the urge to turn around and refresh his memory, make sure he had all the details right for later examination. Maybe he had been imagining things in his shock, maybe the image in his brain was all wrong, and Merlin was really just an ordinary bloke who happened to catch Arthur off guard.

He made it through the rest of class, scribbling a quick reply note that he knew was lame, but he couldn’t come up with anything clever while his brain was running at 10% capacity. As he gathered his things, he snuck another peek towards the back of the classroom, trying to look casual. No, his brain hadn’t been deceiving him. In fact, that first glimpse hadn’t even registered how plump Merlin’s lips were, or the haphazard way his hair curled around those impossibly endearing ears.

Oh, fuck. He had to get out of the classroom before he did something completely stupid.

He had finally found Merlin Emrys, Mystery Doodler Extraordinaire, but Merlin wasn’t aware that Arthur knew his identity and he had already refused to reveal himself. Arthur couldn’t just go blurting it out and making an ass of himself now. This would require research and planning. He had to know more about this boy named Merlin, as soon as possible.

****

Merlin was feeling good this morning. It seemed things were back on track with Arthur, and he and Gwen had enjoyed themselves last night. His anxiety over the weekend seemed a thing of the past. Right now, life felt pretty much perfect (well, as perfect as his real life where he only spoke to Arthur through notes could get. He certainly wasn’t complaining).

Arthur had opened this morning’s note and chuckled, and Merlin was feeling fairly pleased with himself as Professor Smith called the roll. He answered lazily, as usual, briefly disrupting work on his latest drawing (this time it was prehistoric scene, featuring a face-off between a T-Rex and a Stegosaurus. Merlin couldn’t decide who to put his money on.). Then he had glanced up at Arthur, as he did periodically throughout class, expecting to find him pouring studiously over his notes. Instead, he found sky blue eyes staring right into his own.

Merlin blinked, thinking he was imagining things. Maybe he had spent so much time daydreaming that he was starting to lose his grip on reality. Maybe he had actually fallen asleep at his desk, or was still in his bed dreaming and none of this was real at all, because Arthur was looking _right at him_ , with something like shock. Merlin had no idea what to make of it, and he could feel a hot blush spreading across his cheeks.

Arthur turned back around quickly, as if he were embarrassed at being caught, though that didn’t make any sense. Arthur had no reason to be looking at him, never mind any reason to feel awkward about it.

After a couple minutes, Merlin had almost convinced himself that he had imagined the whole thing. Arthur hadn’t been looking at Merlin at all, he had probably been looking at the girl who sat behind him (while Merlin wasn’t exactly an expert judge of female beauty, she seemed cute enough, in an understated way). Then he had been embarrassed that Merlin had caught him stealing glances. That seemed perfectly plausible.

Arthur didn’t look back again for the rest of the lecture, and Merlin tried to keep himself from wishing with all his might that he would. By the time Merlin had gathered his things at the end of class, Arthur was already gone.

He grabbed the new note, taking a quick glance as he walked out.

  


  


It made Merlin giggle, and normally he would be up for a very lengthy debate on the subject. Yet somehow it was a bit disappointing. Merlin didn’t know what he had been expecting. Even if Arthur _had_ accidentally glanced at him, he still had no idea that Merlin was the one leaving the notes.

It had been an entirely disconcerting morning, and Merlin felt in dire need of some strong tea and a little fresh air to clear his head before he let his daydreams run away with him.

****

Arthur wasn’t sure how to set about learning more about Merlin. The most obvious answer seemed to be to find people who knew him, but that narrowed it down to Gwen and Lance, and he still wasn’t ready to consider Lance’s role in all of this.

So, he took the practical approach and started with the basics. He had a friend who worked in the registrar’s office who owed him a favor. While it was _technically_ all kinds of illegal, his friend pulled Merlin’s non-confidential student file. All Arthur learned was that he was a literature major, a member of the gaming club, and in the same year. That wasn’t much to go on.

Arthur wasn’t sure what else to do. He couldn’t just walk around campus describing Merlin and hoping someone might know him. He wasn’t even sure what to do when he found someone who did. What did he want to know anyway?

It was time to face the unpleasant truth: in order to get anywhere, he was going to have to man up and face Lance and finally get everything out in the open.

Arthur caught up with Lance Thursday afternoon after practice. He had a been a bundle of nervous energy all day, just thinking about what he would say. It was definitely going to be awkward, but it had to be done. Lance had a right to tell his side of the story, after all, and if Arthur wanted his help yet again then he was duty bound to listen and at least try to understand.

He grabbed Lance as everyone else was heading back to the dorms and pulled him aside. Leon threw him a questioning glance, but Arthur waved him off, promising to meet him for dinner.

Arthur didn’t want to have this conversation in the open where anyone could hear, but he also wanted to get it over with quickly, without making it a big deal. It was like tearing off a bandage: the quicker it was over with, the less it would hurt. In theory.

Before he could lose his nerve, Arthur blurted out, “I know about Merlin.”

It wasn’t exactly the graceful lead-in he had imagined. He had actually spent quite a bit of time planning out exactly what he was going to say, with a whole speech about friendship and responsibility. So much for that.

Lance just looked blank, and for a moment Arthur thought maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe Merlin had nothing to do with any of this, and he was just running on wild assumptions. He pushed down the panic that thought created and reached in his pocket to pull out one of the notes, holding it out to Lance. He may as well go through with it and find out once and for all. Lance accepted the note with a wary frown, opening it carefully.

“Oh, shit,” Lance breathed out, and Arthur wasn’t sure whether he should be jumping for joy or cursing. Because that meant it was definitely Merlin after all, but it also meant that Lance had known.

“I…” Lance started, waiving the little piece of paper helplessly, like it explained what he was trying to say. “I didn’t know he’d used…and you saw, the other day…oh, shit,” he repeated. It was the most inarticulate Arthur had ever seen him.

“So you knew, the whole time,” Arthur stated, trying to sound certain even though he was still hoping his friend would deny it all.

Lance looked up, meeting Arthur’s eyes with an expression that was at once remorseful and unwavering. “Yes, I knew that Merlin was writing you the notes,” he admitted, handing the paper back to Arthur.

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair to help him keep control. He didn’t want to blow up in the middle of the athletics field.

“So you knew,” he said, voice flat as he could make it. “You let me pour my heart out to you, you gave me advice, and all this time you _knew_? You don’t think you could have mentioned that?” he demanded, incredulity creeping into his tone.

Lance stood his ground, never breaking eye contact. “Yes, I knew. You came to me for advice, and as your friend, I gave it to you. No, I didn’t tell you it was Merlin, because he is my friend too, and I would not break his confidence. I never told him anything you said either.” He was earnest and calm, and Arthur didn’t doubt he had the best intentions. It still seemed impossibly _thick_ of Lance to never think to mention something so vital.

“You told me I should take a chance, and look how that turned out. Did you know he would refuse?” Arthur asked, all the displaced bitterness from that disappointment seeping into his voice. He looked at Lance with accusing eyes, wanting an outlet for his frustration.

“No,” Lance said firmly. “And I gave Merlin the same advice that I gave you, because I thought you really would be good for each other. If he chose not to listen that is not my fault.” He remained calm in the face of Arthur’s anger, and it only made Arthur feel childish, like he was throwing a tantrum because things hadn’t gone his way. Morgana would doubtless tell him exactly that.

He sighed, letting some of the anger drain away, as quickly as it had appeared. “So what do I do now?” he asked, feeling helpless.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “You just yelled at me for getting involved, and now you want more advice? You can’t have it both ways, Arthur.” There was annoyance there, but no real anger.

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur chuckled, more at the ridiculousness of it all than any real humor towards the situation. “Please, Lance, I need to find out more about him. He doesn’t want to meet me, but I can’t just give up, not yet.”

Lance scrutinized him closely for a moment, as if sizing him up and coming to a decision. Arthur hadn’t felt a gaze that intense since he had met Vivian’s father for the first time. He wasn’t sure what Lance was looking for, but he seemed to pass muster.

“Alright,” Lance conceded, shaking his head. “I won’t tell you anything about him, since that wouldn’t be fair.” Arthur’s hopes quickly tumbled. “But,” he continued, “I will tell you where to find him, so you can get to know him for yourself. If you’re serious about this—which I hope you are, for both of your sakes—then it’s up to you to make this work.” Arthur nodded. It wasn’t quite the short cut he had hoped for, but it seemed reasonable enough.

“We’ll make a list of the places he hangs out,” Lance continued, throwing an arm around Arthur’s shoulders companionably, a sign that things were right between them again. “Do you have a pen?”

****

Merlin was fairly certain he was finally going crazy.

He had always noticed Arthur around campus before. He couldn’t help it, it was like he was magnetically drawn to him. Whenever he was within a 100 yard radius Merlin’s eyes would seek him out of their own accord, before his brain even had time to process his presence. Now, though, Merlin was seeing him _everywhere_ , and in places he had absolutely no business being.

The first time he noticed Arthur, Merlin was in the library, curled up in his favorite overstuffed chair with a textbook, enjoying the companionable silence of the other students. He always chose this particular back corner because it was cozy and there was a big window which let in the afternoon light. It was a bit out of the way, but that meant that his chair was usually free.

He was trying to make sense of the life cycle of plants (biology, another hellish core class he’d been forced into by Mr. Kilgharrah), when he felt a sudden urge to look up. Not twenty feet away, across the short open aisle between the rows of shelves, was Arthur.

Merlin almost did a double take, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. Arthur never hung out in the library, at least not that Merlin had ever seen. It just wasn’t…well, it wasn’t very _Arthur_. Yet there he was, with a book open in front of him on the table, elbows resting lazily on either side of it. It was a very large volume, which made Merlin curious to know what it could be.

Just as Merlin was considering this, Arthur looked up and their eyes met. Merlin could feel himself flush instantly, and darted his gaze back down to his book, cursing his genes for giving him such pale skin that gave him away like a giant mood ring. Dammit, Arthur would think he was some kind of weirdo for getting flustered over a few seconds of accidental eye contact. It’s not like he’d been watching him on purpose.

Merlin gave himself a few minutes to calm down, staring blankly at his open textbook until he could feel the heat recede from his cheeks. This time he chanced only a slight glance upward, keeping his head down.

Arthur was _still_ looking at him. Merlin could feel his flush creeping back up, and desperately wanted to lift the sturdy book in front of his face to block any further shame. What the hell was going on? Did he have something on his face? Was there something weird with his outfit today? (He glanced down to check, but it was just faded jeans and an old Star Wars t-shirt. Maybe Arthur was Trek fan?)

When Merlin hazarded a peek several minutes later, Arthur was gone, his seat empty and the book still lying open on the table. Merlin let out a small sigh of relief, sinking down into the chair. He had always secretly wondered what it would be like to be noticed by Arthur Pendragon. Now, he just thought it was intimidating and more than a bit terrifying to be the subject of that intense gaze.

Once Merlin recovered the higher functions of his brain (and a more regular heartbeat), curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to know what it was Arthur had been reading, in a part of the library he never visited. He got up cautiously, checking to see if anyone else noticed, but the few people in the vicinity were absorbed in their work.

Merlin went to the table and peered down at the heavy tome, flipping it closed so he could read the title: _The Oxford English Dictionary_.

****

The next time he spotted Arthur, Merlin was in his favorite café on campus enjoying a cup of tea and sending his mum a quick email on his laptop.

The shop was small and crowded with the usual afternoon surge of students needing their caffeine fix. Merlin was in the corner at a small two-seater table he had managed to snag through vigilance and perseverance (another one of Merlin’s marginally useful ninja skills).

When Arthur walked in, Merlin caught the flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Arthur surveying the small café, obviously a bit overwhelmed by the crowd. Merlin ducked his head quickly to avoid the awkward eye contact of last time. He didn’t want Arthur thinking he was some crazy stalker; they just happened to be in the same places lately, it really wasn’t his fault. The least he could do was not get caught staring again.

He watched discreetly as Arthur ordered a drink, then continued to survey the café carefully. Merlin figured he was probably looking for a seat to open up (which was a long shot, at this time of day). He glanced in Merlin’s direction several times, and Merlin almost had a heart attack at the thought that Arthur might want the open chair across from him. There was no possible way he could keep his cool at that close proximity. He would definitely make an ass of himself somehow, probably in a million ways at once.

Arthur gave one final sweep of the café and then sighed in resignation, taking his drink back outside. Merlin heaved a secret sigh of relief, though he was sad he wouldn’t get a chance to watch Arthur for a while longer. Still, it was much better than making a fool of himself irreparably.

****

It had been a surprisingly stressful couple of days for Arthur. He never thought that getting to know someone could be so bloody hard. Lance had given him the list of Merlin’s favorite hang outs, and he had tracked them down with every intention of confronting Merlin and getting this whole messy business sorted out once and for all.

On his very first attempt he had seen Merlin in the library and had panicked, grabbing the first book he could lay his hands on and trying to look casual. Merlin had spotted him, had caught him _staring_ no less, and Arthur was so unnerved he was almost ready to give the whole thing up right then.

But the way Merlin had blushed when their eyes met had been transfixing. Arthur couldn’t help himself, he just couldn’t look away. It was endearing that Merlin would blush over such a little thing. Maybe Arthur was just used to being stared at, or maybe he was less self-conscious, but being observed seemed to make Merlin embarrassed, and Arthur wanted to know why. The boy should probably be used to being ogled, looking like _that_. He wanted to know what else would make Merlin blush so charmingly.

After another fifteen minutes of not-so-covert observation Arthur’s resolve to approach Merlin had crumbled. It would have been so easy to just stride up to him and say something smooth, but all Arthur could do was stare. He felt like he was back in elementary school. Eventually he had given it up and fled like a coward. Same with every other time he had managed to find Merlin around campus. He had been able to learn a few things despite his overall failure, however.

He knew that Merlin liked to read (though that seemed obvious, since he was a lit major, after all), and he liked to lay in the grass on the quad and listen to his iPod. He learned that Merlin was exceedingly polite: holding doors for strangers, thanking people with a smile, all of the little things so many people seemed to take for granted. He noticed that Merlin chewed on his bottom lip while he was concentrating, and that he liked to tap his feet to some rhythm only he could hear. None of that was really all that useful, but it made Arthur inexplicably happy. This really hadn’t been the plan, though. Arthur hadn’t intended to become some kind of amateur stalker. He was supposed to confront Merlin and get to the bottom of this. Maybe they would come out friends, he had hoped.

Only now that wasn’t enough. The more Arthur watched Merlin, the more he wanted to be a part of his life, to get to talk and laugh and smile with him. He wanted to know what he was reading, what song it was that played inside his head. It was ridiculous. Arthur was falling arse over teakettle for someone he’d _still_ never talked to. And a guy, no less. All of this was unprecedented territory, and Arthur couldn’t just turn to Lance for advice anymore.

When he felt like he couldn’t possibly think any longer without his brain melting, the only answer seemed to be to distract himself completely, at least for a little while.

****

Friday night Arthur headed out to his favorite pub with Leon, Elyan, and Gwaine (Lance had plans with Gwen and Merlin, and Arthur tried to pretend he wasn’t insanely jealous).

A few beers in and Arthur was feeling better, forgetting about his troubles in the wake of his friends’ bawdy tales. Gwaine was in particularly fine form tonight, taking bets on how many people he could convince to kiss him before the night was through. Leon had low-balled his bet at five, Elyan chose a realistic ten, but Gwaine was shooting for no less than twenty. By the end of two beers he was already up to six, and Arthur had no idea how he pulled it off (one had only been on the cheek, and another from a bloke, and the guys were currently arguing over what did and did not count under the Official Rules).

Leon and Elyan took off a short while later, both having things to do the next morning. Arthur stuck around with Gwaine, partly to look after him and make sure he didn’t get himself beaten up, and partly so he could put off going back to his life for a while longer.

As Arthur sipped the dregs of another pint Gwaine toppled himself in the seat next to him, shit-eating grin on his face, and announced he was up to twelve, pointing to a tall man leaning against the bar. Arthur just chuckled into his glass. “You do realize that one’s a man, don’t you? Or are you so drunk you thought she was just very tall?”

Gwaine laughed good naturedly and slapped him on the back. “I don’t see how it makes much difference, mate, it’s all the same to me,” he said with a smile, pouring himself another drink from their pitcher.

Arthur was fascinated by Gwaine’s easygoing attitude. Normally he might just find it ridiculous, just Gwaine being Gwaine. But in his loosened state Arthur was intrigued. “You really think there’s no difference between fancying a bloke and fancying a girl?” he asked, trying to sound indifferent, though Gwaine was way beyond the point of noticing subtlety anyway.

“Why should there be?” Gwaine replied, still smiling. “The parts are a little different, I’ll give you that, but when you’re _sliding_ in it pretty much feels—“

“Oh, God, I didn’t mean _that_ ,” Arthur interrupted with a splutter, trying to keep the lager he’d been sipping from going the wrong way down his windpipe.

Gwaine stopped to consider, stroking his chin stubble like he was deep in thought. “Then I have no idea what you mean,” he finally admitted, his stupid smile back.

Arthur just groaned. Why would he even try to have a serious conversation with Gwaine, of all people, especially when he was three sheets to the wind? He may as well talk to wooden bar top, for all the good it would do him.

Gwaine seemed to sense that there was something on Arthur’s mind because a moment later he looked much more sober. It was uncanny how he managed to do that, and Arthur sometimes thought the drunkenness was really just an elaborate act.

“Something on your mind, mate?” he asked quietly, leaning in towards Arthur over the small table.

Arthur rubbed at his eyes, considering whether he really wanted to have this conversation with Gwaine right now. Then again, it’s not like he had anyone else to talk to.

“Have you ever been…attracted to a bloke? And I mean more than just snogging him in a bar,” Arthur added with a rueful smile that made Gwanie laugh.

“Sure I have,” Gwaine replied, taking a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulder so he could look him in the eye. “I meant what I said, it’s no different with a man or woman. Love, sex, whatever, it works pretty much the same, whoever you’re with. Don’t get so uptight about it, prissy boy,” he chided, whacking Arthur gruffly on the back of the head, making him splutter again.

Gwaine leaned forward conspiratorially, voice a stage whisper. “If you want to try it, I’d be happy to show you the ropes,” he offered with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Arthur laughed, pushing him away, and Gwaine just shrugged, grinning like a loon. “Fine,” he said, pretending to be offended, “don’t say I never offered to help a friend.” Arthur reached to whack him round the head, but Gwaine ducked out of the way rather nimbly for someone so sloshed.

“Look, mate,” Gwaine said, standing up and pulling Arthur with him, heading towards the bar, “don’t think I haven’t noticed how worked up you’ve been lately. I may not be the most astute bloke, but I’m not blind. Whoever it is that’s got you tied in knots, don’t think so hard about it. Just give it a go, yeah? Now stop being such a girl and come take a shot with me already.”

Arthur drained his pint and followed behind without objection. Maybe it was just the influence of the alcohol, but Gwaine seemed to have a valid point (that alone was probably proof that he was on the wrong side of tipsy). But he was right, there was no point in over-thinking things or getting caught up in the silly details. So Merlin was a bloke. He was also attractive and kind and funny. Arthur would be an idiot not to at least give it a try. Like Gwaine said, it would work itself out.

Arthur sealed his resolve with the shot of tequila Gwaine handed him, cringing as it burned his throat. That was one decision made, anyway. Now he just had to figure out how to go about it.


	5. Chapter 5

It sounded so much simpler when he had been several drinks past sober. Arthur decided he had to make a move, that, no matter what, he _had_ to meet Merlin and at least attempt to get to know him. (And, if things went well, eventually declare his ardent feelings and not-so-noble intentions. But that could come later.) He still knew it was the right decision, even with his mind totally clear, but the practical considerations of how to go about it seemed much more daunting.

Arthur had already contemplated a dozen different methods, but none of them felt _right_. He thought about some kind of grand gesture, something to let the whole campus know how he felt (the girls he had dated always seemed to appreciate such romance, though Arthur wasn’t overly fond of making a spectacle of himself). But so far he hadn’t even been able to chat Merlin up when he saw him around campus, always losing his nerve at the critical moment. There was no way he’d manage something grand and poetic without keeling over from embarrassment halfway through.

Rather, he needed something that put less pressure on both of them, something that wasn’t so direct and downright terrifying. He wanted to leave both of them the option to back out without being publicly humiliated forever.

The idea finally came to him as he paced back and forth across his small dorm room, hands tugging at his hair in frustration: a note. It was so obvious, he wasn’t sure how it had taken him so long to realize it. That was how they had been communicating all along, it was already familiar, a part of their routine. Plus it gave both of them a little leeway. Hopefully Merlin wouldn’t feel too pressured, and Arthur wouldn’t have to face direct rejection if it didn’t go to plan. It would leave them both with a bit of dignity, or at least the minuscule amount Arthur had left at this point.

Alright. He would write a note and get to class early so he could leave it on Merlin’s desk before he arrived (he desperately hoped he remembered the right seat, or this could go spectacularly awry).

That was one decision down. Now, what the hell did one write on a note to a secret crush/potential boyfriend whom you have never actually talked to? It’s not like they made greeting cards for occasions like this. Anything overly sentimental would just come off as creepy. He had to get the message across but still play it cool. Though cool probably wasn’t possible in a _pathetic love note_.

He spent he rest of the evening thinking up and rejecting one possibility after another. By the time Leon returned, Arthur’s desk looked like a miniature landfill of crumpled paper.

“Having a rough time?” Leon asked cautiously, skirting around Arthur’s mess as if touching it might infect him with Arthur’s lunacy. He dropped his bag down on his bed and started pulling out textbooks, eyeing Arthur warily.

“I’m fine,” Arthur replied, trying to cover his frustration with false cheerfulness, but it came out sounding manic.

Leon seemed to think so too. “Alright, well, I’ve got some work to do, but, uh, let me know if you… need anything,” he said, turning his desk chair sideways. Arthur could feel those sharp eyes watching him covertly from behind his book.

Arthur set back to work, scribbling notes and tearing them up, gritting his teeth in frustration. He knew Leon was watching every time he let out a weary sigh or ripped off a new sheet of paper and threw it across the room. Still, he couldn’t stop himself, and he couldn’t confide in Leon right now. He had to figure this out by the morning, there was no time for pep talks (and even less for lectures). If all went well, Arthur would tell him about it afterward and reassure Leon that he had not in fact gone insane. And if it didn’t go well then it might be time to cart him off to the loony bin after all.

****

Arthur woke up to his alarm the next morning with his head slumped on his desk, crumpled paper digging painfully into his cheek. He sat up and stretched, stiff limbs protesting the hours spent in an awkward position. A blanket slid off his shoulders and he grabbed it before it fell to the floor. Leon must have thrown it over him this morning before he left for his early class. He might be worried for Arthur’s mental health, but he was still the same old Leon.

Arthur looked down at the pile of paper covering his desk (now accompanied by a small pond of drool). He had finally decided on a message at three in the morning, and his sleep-deprived brain had declared it genius, though now he couldn’t recall a word of it.

He picked up the only uncrumpled sheet from the center of the desk and read it over. Well, it wasn’t bloody Shakespeare, but it would have to do. He didn’t have any more time to worry about it. Class started in an hour, and he needed to be there extra early today.

When Arthur arrived at the classroom he peeked in nervously, hoping it would still be fairly empty. For once, he was in luck. He had no idea what he would have done if Merlin had beaten him there but it was best not to dwell on that. He was wound tightly enough as it was, without thinking of every possible catastrophe.

He dropped his things at his desk and closed his eyes for a moment, carefully remembering which seat Merlin had been sitting in last class. It was behind him to his left, two rows over and three seats back. Or was it four? No, he was fairly certain it was three. He decided to leave the note and keep a cautious eye out, in case anyone who was _not_ Merlin headed for that seat and he needed to make a quick recovery.

Now he had half an hour until class began and nothing to do with all of his nervous energy. He pulled out his phone and sent Gwaine a text, knowing the wanker would still be in bed even though it was nearly noon. Sure enough, he received an angry reply several minutes later, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad.

Finally, other students started to file in and Arthur didn’t feel quite so conspicuous. He tried to look like he wasn’t watching them all impatiently, but it was hard to pull his eyes from the doorway for more than ten seconds at a time.

Then Merlin walked in, looking like he had rolled out of bed only moments ago. His hair was sticking up at a rather remarkable angle in the back, and Arthur had to look away before he broke into a ridiculous grin. Bed head shouldn’t be so cute, should it? Dammit, he was really in trouble.

Merlin made his way over to his seat (which was exactly the one Arthur had guessed, fortunately) and dropped his things. Now that the moment was finally here, Arthur felt like his heart was going to beat its way out of his ribcage and jump ship, abandoning him to his folly. He couldn’t blame it.

He waited for Merlin to notice the piece of paper, trying to keep his expression calmer than he felt (which was several ticks past nervous and approaching apocalyptic-level panic). Then Merlin’s eyes fell on the note and he looked confused, cocking his head to one side like a curious puppy. He reached out hesitantly and took the note, unfolding it in what felt like slow motion. And then Arthur swore his heart stopped altogether.

****

Merlin had almost overslept that morning, and probably would have if it weren’t for the providential text from Gwen telling him she had a study group in the afternoon and couldn’t meet him for lunch. Merlin groaned and rolled over, finally noticing the time. Normally he might give in to temptation and snuggle back into his nice warm blankets and sleep most of the day away. He figured he had earned the right to an unscheduled day off once in a while. Today, however, was economics day, and the thought of a new reply note from Arthur was even more tempting than a few extra hours of sleep.

So he pulled himself out of bed and threw on some semi-clean clothes (they passed a quick sniff inspection), and was ready in record time. His hair was sticking up, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at the best of times, so he let it be. There was no time to grab tea, which was a shame, but he promised himself an extra cup if he made it through class without falling asleep.

Merlin grabbed his things and rushed out the door, with just enough time left to arrive at class a few minutes early.

Or so he thought, but when Merlin entered the room Arthur was already in his seat, glancing down at his mobile. It threw Merlin off; this wasn’t their usual pattern, Arthur was never there before he was. Was he really running that late today? But the classroom was still only half full.

Crap. He had no idea what to do now. He couldn’t very well leave a note on the desk when Arthur was sitting in it. It was a shame, because he had come up with a particularly good one today, but he supposed he would just have to save it for next class. This probably meant he wouldn’t receive a reply today either, which was even more of a letdown. Maybe missing his alarm had been a sign that he should have stayed in bed after all.

He shuffled to his seat, trying to hold back an enormous yawn. His residual sleepiness was probably the reason he didn’t immediately notice the folded paper sitting in the center of his desk. His eyes went wide as he realized why that paper looked so familiar. His hands shook as he reached down to take it, unfolding it slowly, like it might explode if he wasn’t careful.

  


  


  
Merlin knew he must look ridiculous to anyone happening to glance his way. His jaw hung slack and his eyes were as round as saucers as he re-read the note several more times, reassuring himself that it actually said what he thought it did, that this wasn’t just another trick of his overactive imagination. But it was fairly straightforward; his brain couldn’t come up with any prevaricating explanations this time. The words “fall for you” and “responsibility” bounced around in his head like a ricocheting pinball, echoing until they drowned out all other thoughts. Merlin looked up, still reeling, and reflexively glanced at Arthur.

Who was looking straight back at him. Arthur’s head was turned, watching Merlin carefully over his shoulder, like he was trying to be covert. When he noticed Merlin returning his gaze he broke into a small smile, more of a smirk, really, and raised one eyebrow in a questioning gesture, nodding meaningfully towards Merlin’s hands.

Merlin knew he was blushing furiously, and his eyes were still bugging out of their sockets. He was trying to make sense of all this, but it just wasn’t connecting. The note, Arthur’s look, could it really be meant for him? And did it mean what he thought, or at least hoped, it did? He’d been known to delude himself before.

Merlin glanced at the people around him and then back at Arthur. No one else seemed to be paying attention, so he didn’t know who else Arthur could possibly be addressing. Still, he had to be certain. He raised a shaking hand and pointed to himself, raising his eyebrows in a return question.

Arthur just rolled his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of frustration at Merlin’s slowness. He nodded his head, scrutinizing Merlin with piercing blue eyes. Merlin was jealous of how calm he looked while he felt ready to pass out.

Merlin’s mouth had gone dry, and he licked his lips reflexively, looking back down at the note. It wasn’t really a question, but it looked like Arthur expected some kind of answer. In all his daydreams he never could have come up with something like this. Over a year of watching and yearning and hoping, and it all came down to this moment. In that case, there was only one thing he could do.

He looked back up to find Arthur still watching him, his usually full mouth pressed into a thin, tense line. Merlin looked him in the eye, feeling his cheeks heat up like burning coals, and nodded fervently, nearly giving himself whiplash in the process.

Arthur grinned then, a full, joyful smile, and Merlin thought he might pass out after all. He felt dizzy, like the world had dropped away beneath his feet and he was floating without an anchor. Arthur nodded to him again and Merlin nodded back dumbly, not sure what he was agreeing to now, but it hardly mattered, because the answer to anything Arthur asked would always be _yes_.

Professor Smith called for attention and Arthur hesitantly turned back around in his seat, but Merlin caught another flash of a smile and a quick blush. As soon as Arthur’s attention was turned away Merlin slumped down in his seat, all his energy deserting him in a rush. His heart was beating an erratic staccato rhythm and his mind was still trying to process what _the hell_ had just happened.

Merlin would never remember a single thing that was said in that lecture. He could barely remember being in the class at all. When he told Gwen about it later, all he could recount for certain was the way Arthur had smiled at him, and how it felt like taking his first breath.

****

After class Arthur packed his things away slowly, turning to watch Merlin cram his belongings carelessly into his backpack. Merlin looked up to see Arthur still standing at his desk as the rest of the class emptied out. He seemed startled, and Arthur tried to smile reassuringly, but he was still nervous as hell and it probably showed. Merlin may have accepted his proposal, or declaration, or whatever the hell it had been, but now came the part where they actually had to _speak_ , without their usual paper intermediary. What if they really didn’t get along after all?

Arthur shrugged towards the door and Merlin fell into step silently beside him. Merlin looked a little wide-eyed, as if he wasn’t quite sure this was actually happening. Arthur knew the feeling, though he was desperately trying to hide it. He was the one who had initiated this, after all, he had to at least pretend like he had a genius plan to follow through.

Arthur suppressed a laugh when Merlin tripped over his own feet, because this whole thing was too new and he didn’t know if it was okay to laugh at a boy you just kinda-sorta asked out. He watched Merlin out of the corner of his eye as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. Arthur kept his own firmly gripped on the strap of his backpack, lest they be tempted to reach out and smooth down that ridiculous bedhead. That would probably _not_ be socially acceptable at this stage.

They walked in awkward silence until they came out of the building and into the bright early afternoon sun. Other students were milling about, but it was a relatively secluded and quiet corner of the campus, private enough for a chat. Arthur turned to Merlin, clearing his throat nervously and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, eyes not quite daring to meet the other boy’s fully, instead resting somewhere around his nose (which was much safer than his mouth, at least).

Arthur was trying desperately to come up with something to say. He had spent so much time thinking about this moment, but he had never actually come up with a real plan past the point of getting Merlin to agree to meet him. How the hell was he supposed to start? It wasn’t like meeting a stranger, since they already knew each other, albeit in an rather unusual way. Starting with introductions at this point just seemed silly.

“How did you find out?” Merlin suddenly blurted, saving Arthur the trouble. Merlin immediately flushed pink and dropped his eyes to his trainers, scuffing them against the pavement.

It wasn’t the best place to start. Arthur hadn’t planned to kick things off by admitting to being something of a stalker or almost blowing up at their mutual friend. It didn’t exactly paint him in the most favorable light. But it did present an opening.

“It’s, um, rather a long story, actually,” Arthur said, trying not to sound panicked. “We could, —I mean, if you’d like to, I could tell you about it over a cup of tea? Now, I mean. You know, if you want.” Oh hell, that was smooth. How many times had he asked women out? He had never sounded like such a bumbling amateur before, not even back in high school. Arthur was ready to run away right then and never show his face again. Now Merlin would think he was awkward and quite possibly creepy.

Instead, Merlin seemed to have miraculously relaxed a little at Arthur’s fumbling speech. He was possibly even smiling a little, though it was hard to tell with his face tilted towards the ground like his feet were utterly enthralling. He seemed to consider Arthur’s proposal and finally looked up, though still not quite meeting Arthur’s eyes, which was a bit of a relief.

“Do you mean,” Merlin began, but paused and took a deep breath, as if he were steeling himself. “You mean as friends?” he asked, the words coming out in one gasping rush.

Arthur had never blushed so hard in his life. He thought the note had made his intentions pretty damn clear, what was Merlin trying to do, forcing him to say it? Was he purposely trying to embarrass him? Or maybe that was his subtle way of saying he only wanted to be friends. Fuck. Well, Arthur had come this far. He may as well shoot for the goal now, it’s not like he could look like much more of an idiot.

“I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but I had been thinking more along the lines of a… date.” God, now he sounded like an ass as well.

But Merlin was smirking, a mischievous look that made Arthur’s stomach flutter. “Most people would start with some flirting, you know, and gradually work their way up to a date. But you just jump right in. That is a bit presumptuous, really.”

Arthur’s first instinct was to be offended, but instead he felt himself gaping in shock, unable to work up any righteous indignation. Then he noticed that Merlin’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, watching Arthur’s incredulous face. Merlin was biting his bottom lip, as if attempting to hold back a grin.

Arthur was transfixed, staring at that full lip trapped between Merlin’s teeth, forgetting that he had just been played. That sarcasm was something he’d have to get used to, but right now he couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at the teasing, so long as Merlin kept smirking so temptingly.

“You know, you weren’t nearly so cheeky in your notes,” Arthur replied with a confident smile, back on familiar ground. If Merlin wanted to tease, he could do that too.

Merlin only grinned, apparently seeing right through his haughty tone. “What, you changing your mind then?” he asked, and Arthur could sense a note of real hesitancy beneath the glib tone.

It felt like an important moment. Merlin was giving him an opening; he could choose to back out now and play it all off as a joke. They could just be friends, or nothing at all, there was still time to go back. But the hesitance he had felt only a few moments ago was already gone, wiped away by that smile. Arthur was certain, for the first time in a long while, of exactly what he wanted.

“I think I can forgive your attitude if you can overlook my _arrogance_ ” Arthur said sarcastically, giving Merlin a withering look which was severely undermined by his grin.

“Yeah, I think I could do that,” Merlin replied, sounding a little breathless. Merlin finally lifted his eyes to meet Arthur’s, and he could see a warmth that belied the subdued tone.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, sizing the other up. They had only been talking for a few minutes, and it was nerve wracking and bewildering and entirely exhilarating. Already Arthur felt closer to Merlin, after just a few words. Then again, they really weren’t their first words, were they? They had been friends for weeks already, without acknowledging it as such. There was an understanding there that somehow went beyond the jokes and the small talk.

Arthur recalled Lance’s words about destiny, and right now it didn’t seem quite so preposterous. Maybe everything did happen for a reason after all. Arthur cleared his throat again, pulling his eyes away from Merlin’s and looking around sheepishly, like he had just remembered they were staring at each other in the middle of the open campus.

“So, how about that tea then?” Arthur asked, hitching his backpack over one shoulder and turning towards the quad.

Merlin nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds like a start,” he replied, falling into step beside Arthur as he led the way towards Merlin’s favorite cafe.

Arthur turned to frown at him. “What, you’ve got other ideas?” he asked, distracted by the way Merlin’s long fingers wrapped around the straps of his bag.

“Oh, I think I may have a few,” Merlin replied, flashing him another playful grin, and Arthur was left wondering what the hell he had been waiting for all this time, faltering for a step as he stared in surprise.

Merlin looked back at him with a quirked eyebrow and Arthur hastily caught up. There was certainly no need to go revealing that just yet, best to keep some things for later. Tea would be a good place to start. What happened from there… well, he had no idea, but we was pretty sure it was going to be _brilliant_.

  
THE END (but not really)

  
  
_Epilogue_   


  
The night of their first proper date Arthur was a mess. They had decided on the cinema, which was a classic first date destination. It relieved some of the pressure of having to make conversation all evening, but it came with its own set of complications, which were only compounded by the fact that Arthur had never gone out with a guy before. It was different from taking a girl out, wasn’t it? There were so many things he wasn’t sure about: would he be expected to pay, or would that be condescending? Were you supposed to hold doors or pull out chairs for a guy? Who would pick the movie? Did a date automatically mean it had to be a romantic movie? (He really, really hoped not.)

All of that was on top of the usual first date anxieties: what should he wear, would they get along, would they kiss, should he ask him out again? All of it was nerve wracking, and Arthur was almost ready to call it off and forget the whole thing.

But then Leon had stepped in, helping him choose an outfit (which he had never done for any of Arthur’s dates before), and reassured him that it would be fine so long as he took it one moment at a time and didn’t get too caught up in the details. Leon hadn’t been nearly as surprised at the news as Arthur had expected, and while he had asked a lot of questions, he had been nothing but supportive. Arthur was sure he’d be a complete wreck by now if it weren’t for Leon’s quiet reassurance.

They had planned to meet at the theater, and Arthur was so anxious that he arrived almost half an hour early. He had nothing to do but loiter about in the lobby, trying to keep his mind blank and not get too worked up. The more he let himself think about everything that could go wrong, the more likely he was to do or say something stupid.

Then Merlin arrived, looking freshly showered and shaved and combed, and it made Arthur forget everything else. He looked more put together than Arthur had ever seen him in class, in dark wash jeans and a dark blue jumper that made his eyes look even more intense. Arthur had to stop himself from gaping, hiding his surprise behind a genuine smile. If Merlin had been cute before, tonight he looked downright gorgeous. That alone made it worth showing up, even if he did end up embarrassing himself catastrophically.

Merlin spotted him with obvious relief and headed over to join him with a shy smile. His hands were shoved in his pockets, in a gesture Arthur was already becoming used to, and he realized that Merlin was probably just as nervous. The thought settled him; at least he wasn’t in this alone.

“Um, you look nice,” Arthur said, not sure if that was an appropriate thing to say to a guy, but it was certainly true. Merlin blushed and mumbled his thanks, dipping his head coyly. That was probably a yes, then. Arthur filed that information away in a new mental folder marked ‘Ways to Make Merlin Happy’.

“What movie do you want to see?” Merlin asked, eyes still fixed on the floor.

Arthur had been so preoccupied with everything else that he had forgotten to even consider the movie choices. He took a look at the listings board and chose the first thing that seemed halfway decent, an action movie staring Bruce Willis.

Merlin cringed, but it was tempered by a lopsided grin. “It’s not really a date movie, is it?” he replied, and Arthur mentally kicked himself. Apparently he was doomed to watch a romance film after all.

“Fine, what did you have in mind?” Arthur asked, his nervousness manifesting itself as annoyance.

Merlin didn’t seem to mind, naming a sci fi movie about robots that Arthur vaguely remembered Leon talking about.

“Oh, and _that_ is a date movie?” he asked incredulously, trying to sound affronted, though really he didn’t care what kind of movie it was. They could see some stupid foreign art film for all he cared at this point, so long as he got to sit close to Merlin in the dark.

“Robots are appropriate for all occasions,” Merlin assured him, like this was the most obvious thing in the world and Arthur was a simpleton for not knowing.

Arthur felt fairly neutral on the subject of robots, but he argued the subject just for the sake of something to say. Merlin’s bottom lip stuck out in just the barest hint of a pout when Arthur insisted that action was cooler than sci fi, and he had to struggle to keep his mind on the conversation. When Merlin did that Arthur wanted to give in to anything he wanted, no matter how ridiculous or distasteful. Hell, he would dress up like a robot and go to a sci fi convention if Merlin pouted hard enough. Arthur was pretty sure that was a bad sign of things to come, when on the first date he was already becoming a total pushover, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind in the slightest.

“Fine,” Arthur finally conceded, with an exaggerated sigh. “We’ll see the robots. But next time I get to choose the movie.” Merlin beamed at him, and Arthur knew he would let Merlin pick next time as well. The fact that Merlin didn’t object to there _being_ a next time made him giddy.

They waited together in the concessions line, and Merlin insisted on buying a giant tub of popcorn. Arthur was a little appalled, but Merlin just smiled mysteriously and assured him that they would need it all.

Once they had chosen their seats (in the back row, which Merlin insisted had the best view of the screen, and Arthur thought was an ideal spot for making out), Merlin attempted to teach Arthur how to catch popcorn in his mouth. Arthur was rubbish at it, unsurprisingly. Merlin tossed piece after piece with precise aim, but somehow Arthur managed to get hit on the chin or the nose, missing his open mouth by millimeters. Merlin seemed to find his lack of skill hilarious, teasing him about his appalling mouth-eye coordination, which only made Arthur more determined to prove himself. When he finally managed to catch a kernel Merlin cheered like he had won the World Cup, and Arthur couldn’t help but beam. Merlin, on the other hand, was an expert at this game, and Arthur had to admit he was mildly impressed. He wondered what other talents his mouth mights have, and oh God, that was not the kind of thing he should be thinking about on a first date.

Before his mind could do any more unbidden wandering, the previews began to roll. Arthur sat back, but he was constantly shifting, unable to find a comfortable position. Merlin, however, settled in right away, and was completely absorbed in the movie from the very first frame. He watched with intense concentration, laughing and smiling and gasping at all the right moments (though he also laughed during the gory scenes, which Arthur found a little odd).

Arthur could barely pay attention. Robots were trying to take over the Earth, but all he could think about was how close Merlin’s knee was to his own, and whether Merlin would notice if he shifted just a little closer, so their shoulders would bump together. He was completely fixated on Merlin’s hand, lying on the arm rest between their seats. It would be so easy to reach over the entwine their fingers, and he wanted to more than anything, but he couldn’t work up the courage. What if Merlin didn’t want to, and freaked out in front of the full theater? That would be devastating. He thought he had been fairly clear that this was an actual _date_ , but did that make it the same as a date with a girl? Was hand-holding a given, or was that some kind of strange taboo? Arthur was in over his head and he had no idea what to do.

Maybe he was thinking so loudly that his brainwaves somehow reached Merlin, because moments later, without his eyes ever leaving the screen, he snaked his hand under the armrest and found Arthur’s, entwining their fingers together and resting them on the seat next to his thigh. Arthur was pretty sure he let out a loud gasp at the unexpected contact, but fortunately the sound of explosions covered it up. Merlin glanced over briefly and smiled before turning back to the robot rebellion. Arthur squeezed his hand in return and finally settled down for the rest of the film.

By the time the credits rolled Arthur was perfectly contented to stay like that forever. But then the house lights came back up and Merlin was standing, their hands pulling apart so he could gather up the empty popcorn tub. Arthur tried not to pout at the loss of contact.

They walked back to campus together, and Merlin was rattling on about how cool the robots had been, and which one was his favorite, and how the director’s older movies were so much better. Arthur was paying enough attention to interject a noncommittal grunt here or there, but Merlin didn’t seem to mind carrying the conversation on his own. Arthur liked the way his voice rattled a mile a minute when he was excited, and couldn’t bring himself to interrupt even if he thought of something intelligent to say.

Arthur’s attention was pulled back sharply when he felt Merlin’s hand close around his own once again. He looked up to find Merlin watching him, anxious frown on his guarded face. For a moment Arthur was too stunned to respond, because they were _holding hands_ , and it wasn’t in the secluded dark of a theater, but on a busy sidewalk near their school, where anyone could see. And he was surprisingly fine with that. Overjoyed, in fact.

He squeezed Merlin’s hand in a gesture which he hoped somehow conveyed that, and pulled him closer so their shoulders rubbed together while they walked. Merlin grinned and ducked his head again, and Arthur was almost certain he was blushing, if the color of his ears was any indication. He could feel himself beaming, but really didn’t see any reason to hide it.

Arthur dropped Merlin off outside his dorm, and they parted with another squeeze of hands and shy smiles and promises to call. They didn’t kiss, which was a little disappointing, but he wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that yet.

Arthur walked back to his own dorm feeling on top of the world. Leon was definitely going to tease him, but he didn’t even mind. He had never been on a date quite like this before. They had talked about robots and thrown popcorn at each other and spent most of the time teasing and making jokes. It was nothing at all like the girls he had gone out with. Yet, somehow, it was probably the best date ever.

****

A week later they were sitting beside each other on the worn out couch in the common room of Merlin’s dorm. The room was otherwise deserted and the lights were off so they could see the telly better. They were watching the new episode of Top Gear, which made Merlin smile when Arthur had suggested it, though he refused to tell him why. He wasn’t ready to admit to his elaborate and slightly pathetic daydreams just yet.

They had been on one more date since the cinema, to a cozy little Thai restaurant where they had lingered for hours, chatting and laughing until the shop finally closed and they were forced out. It had been brilliant, better than Merlin had even imagined. They had discussed just about everything they could think of: their families, their childhoods, their futures, their likes and dislikes and favorites. Somehow he felt like he had known Arthur so much longer than just a few short weeks. It was crazy how fast he was falling for him.

But one thing they still hadn’t done was kiss, and it made Merlin nervous. The first night Arthur hadn’t seemed to expect it, and so he let it be, not wanting to rush him. Then the second date Merlin had been sure it would happen. They had held hands on their walk back to campus and Arthur kept glancing at him. Merlin was pretty sure he’d been giving off the right signals all night, so he thought it was a sure thing. But then at the critical moment Arthur had let go and said goodnight without so much as a kiss on the cheek. Merlin was starting to feel anxious.

He knew Arthur had never dated a guy before. They had discussed it a little, though Arthur seemed uncomfortable talking about it. Maybe Arthur didn’t want to kiss him, maybe he had decided that his feelings were only platonic after all, and was waiting for the right time to tell Merlin. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to go about it.

Merlin decided that it was at least worth a try. If Arthur wasn’t attracted to him in that way he may as well find out now, before he let his hopes get any higher (and before Gwen started inviting everyone she knew to their wedding).

Merlin started by leaning closer to Arthur so their shoulders and knees touched. Arthur continued to laugh at the screen and didn’t seem to notice. So much for subtle. He leaned even farther, pressing their sides fully against each other, his hand brushing lightly against Arthur’s thigh from where it rested on his own leg.

Arthur took notice at that. Merlin could feel his body stiffen, and he turned to look at Merlin warily. He looked frightened, like he had been caught in a trap and didn’t know how to get himself out. Merlin felt like a prize idiot. Here he was practically throwing himself at Arthur who clearly wasn’t interested.

“Sorry,” Merlin mumbled, moving to slide himself back down the couch.

But then an arm came up and wrapped around his shoulder, holding him firmly in place, and the hand resting on his leg was enveloped by warm skin. Merlin stayed perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the tentative peace and frighten Arthur off. It was like he had finally coaxed a shy animal into letting him pet it, but any sudden movements might send it scurrying away. He let himself relax into the embrace, contouring himself to the space at Arthur’s side, but not venturing any further.

They remained like that for what felt like forever, but was probably closer to ten minutes. Arthur rubbed his thumb lazily over the back of Merlin’s hand, but that was the only movement. It was nice, but it made Merlin antsy, because it just wasn’t _enough_. He probably should have been grateful for this much, but having a little contact made him greedy for more.

It was time to push his luck. Merlin moved slowly, trying to draw Arthur’s attention without startling him. He angled himself so he could look at Arthur’s profile, which was still tense, his jaw clenched tight. He moved in closer so his chin rested near the hollow between Arthur’s shoulder and neck, desperately holding himself back from licking a long line up that bronze skin. That would definitely be taking it too far right now.

Arthur shifted nervously and looked over see what Merlin was up to. When he turned his face Merlin’s own was only inches away. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat at the suddenness of it, and he could see Arthur’s eyes go wide in the flickering light of the television. He could feel himself blushing at Arthur’s obvious surprise, and was sure he had made a total ass of himself again, trying to sneak up on Arthur so desperately.

But then their eyes met and all other thoughts ceased. Because Arthur was looking at him with _that_ look, the universal, unambiguous sign that someone wants to kiss you. There’s no mistaking that look, and even though Merlin had only seen it a few times before, he would recognize it anywhere. Then Arthur licked his lips unconsciously, his gaze flicking between Merlin’s eyes and his mouth, and Merlin couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Merlin leaned in the last few inches slowly, giving Arthur time to realize what he was doing and pull away if he didn’t want this. But Arthur didn’t move and suddenly their lips met in a soft touch. It was a chaste kiss, mouths closed and lips a little dry, but it was wonderful. Arthur’s lips were warm and full and felt perfect against Merlin’s own. It lasted only a few seconds before he pulled away, eyes sliding back open, though he couldn’t remember closing them.

Arthur was blushing and looking completely bewildered, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened. But he didn’t look disgusted, so Merlin took that as a positive sign. He waited for Arthur to say something, biting his bottom lip anxiously. He had made the first move, made his desires clear, and now it was up to Arthur to decide what he wanted.

Merlin was caught by surprise when Arthur made his answer unmistakably clear, leaning back in and capturing his lips in a rush, and suddenly they were kissing for real. It was a little messy, a little over-eager, but it was absolutely glorious, and Merlin just wanted _more_ , of all of it.

Once Arthur got over his initial shock he proved that he knew what he was doing. He lavished attention on each of Merlin’s lips in turn, taking the plump bottom lips between his own and sucking on it lightly, making Merlin shiver. Arthur’s hands reached up to cup Merlin’s jaw, fingertips tracing small circles over the sensitive skin just behind his ears. Merlin’s hands found their way into Arthur’s hair, which was so much softer than his own, and he was almost distracted by the feeling of it sliding between his fingers. Arthur seemed to approve of this, pulling them closer together until Merlin was practically in his lap.

Arthur’s lips were gentle but demanding, licking teasingly at Merlin’s bottom lip, making him gasp and part his lips slightly. Arthur took this as an invitation to explore the sensitive skin of his inner lip, patiently coaxing Merlin’s tongue out to meet his own. After that it was a confusion of lips and tongues and lightly nipping teeth, and Merlin could barely remember to breathe, because it seemed to be the very last thing on his mind right now. Arthur’s hands continued to explore his neck and shoulders and Merlin felt so many sensations at once that he was convinced he was going to fly apart.

When they finally broke apart again they were sprawled haphazardly on the couch, Merlin pulled onto Arthur’s chest, limbs intertwined. Merlin chuckled awkwardly, trying to arrange himself into a slightly more dignified position, though Arthur didn’t let him move very far.

Arthur was smiling and running his thumb over Merlin’s cheek and darkened lips, fingers brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck. Merlin was content to stay like that for the rest of his life.

“That was... brilliant,” Arthur breathed, voice husky, lips deliciously swollen. It sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine.

Merlin rolled his eyes playfully. “You sound surprised,” he replied, though his attempted sarcasm was undermined by his ridiculous grin.

Arthur looked sheepish. “I thought it would be different… you know…” he motioned vaguely between them, but Merlin understood what he meant.

“I wouldn’t really know,” he replied honestly. He had no idea what kissing a girl was like, except for the few times Gwen had kissed him, but that was more like kissing his mother, nothing at all like this. “Was it?” he asked, curious, but also wary.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed, and Merlin felt his spirits fall. Of course it would be different, it was only logical. Arthur was used to girls’ softer mouths and smaller frames. Merlin didn’t know what to say.

Arthur slid his fingers forward to take hold of Merlin’s chin, tilting it up so he could look him in the eyes. “It was even better,” he amended, and Merlin’s nervousness gave way to a relieved smile.

“It was pretty amazing,” Merlin agreed, feeling himself blush, and Arthur beamed up at him. “But you know what they say about practice,” he teased, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“It does a body good?” Arthur answered, fingers playing with Merlin’s hair again.

“Yeah, something like that,” Merlin agreed, leaning back in for another kiss. He could feel Arthur’s smile curling against his lips for a brief moment before he was kissing him eagerly once again.

They ended up hopelessly tangled together again, but Merlin didn’t mind in the least.

****

Merlin met Arthur’s friends a week later. He had suggested one of Arthur’s footy matches, since it would be a casual atmosphere, and Lance and Gwen would be there, providing some mutual connections so Merlin wouldn’t be totally on his own. Arthur had warned Merlin that his friends could be a little rowdy, but they just liked to joke around, and didn’t mean anything by it. That didn’t really help Merlin’s nerves.

Gwen and Merlin showed up together shortly before the match began, and Gwen trotted off to wish Lance good luck, leaving Merlin standing by the sidelines shuffling his feet. He gave Arthur a hesitant wave. Before he knew what was happening, Arthur had jogged over to say hello, and gave Merlin a quick kiss, which left him blushing furiously as someone shouted catcalls behind them. Merlin whispered a quick “good luck,” because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Merlin and Gwen watched from the sidelines, and even though she had to explain some of the more complicated rules to him, Merlin found himself getting into it. Gwen cheered enthusiastically, and Merlin joined in whenever Arthur scored a goal, though he returned to blushing when Arthur insisted on waving at them excitedly. He just knew everyone was looking at him.

The game ended in a victory for the Knights, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Gwen rushed forward to congratulate Lance and Merlin followed behind cautiously. The guys were all gathered around the bench, cooling off and having a drink. Arthur spotted Merlin and jogged over to meet him, grabbing his hand and dragging him over the huddled group.

“Guys,” Arthur announced, clearing his throat to get their attention. Curious eyes turned on him and Merlin could feel himself blushing. Now that the moment was upon him, he wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. He knew it was important to Arthur that they all get along, but what if they didn’t like him? Arthur continued to hold his hand, which made it a bit easier, but Merlin was still practically shaking as he surveyed Arthur’s friends.

“This is Merlin,” Arthur announced, and Merlin could see that he was blushing a little as well. “Merlin, this is Elyan, Gwaine, and Leon,” Arthur continued, pointing to each man in turn.

Elyan nodded his acknowledgment, stepping forward to pat Merlin on the shoulder and offer his welcome. Merlin tried to smile back, though it felt a bit weak. Gwaine stepped forward as well, eyeing Merlin carefully. Merlin felt like he was being appraised, and didn’t know what to do except return the gaze as steadily as he could, hoping he passed whatever kind of test this was.

Finally Gwaine broke into a crazy grin, pulling Merlin into a rough hug which caught him off guard and sent him toppling into Gwaine’s chest. Arthur spluttered in protest, but Gwaine just laughed and ruffled Merlin’s hair, like they were old friends. Merlin had no idea what to do other than go along with it.

“So, you’re the one who’s been driving Arthur crazy this whole time, huh? You shoulda seen the boy, he was right mess!” Gwaine exclaimed, releasing Merlin but keeping a hand in his hair, petting him like a puppy. It reminded Merlin of the way Gwen sometimes patted him, and he didn’t particularly mind, though Arthur seemed to be silently fuming. His words, however, were highly intriguing.

“Driving Arthur crazy? Me?” Merlin parroted dumbly.

Gwaine looked ready to launch into a long and doubtless very entertaining story, judging by the look of relish on his face, but Arthur cut him off.

“Gwaine here likes to make up stories, Merlin, you should never listen to a thing he says. The man is a compulsive liar.”

Gwaine just laughed and didn’t bother to deny the accusations, instead throwing Merlin a conspiratorial wink. “We’ll have a drink together sometime, Merlin, and I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about Arthur,” he offered, giving Arthur a mischievous look. Arthur aimed an open-handed smack at the back of his head, but Gwaine ducked, moving swiftly out of range.

“Really, Merlin, call me sometime!” he shouted, following Elyan off the field and whooping with delight. Merlin didn’t quite know what to make of him, but he was sure that getting to know Gwaine certainly wouldn’t be boring.

“He is crazy, you should definitely stay away from him,” Arthur deadpanned, fingers flattening Merlin’s hair back down.

“I think I like him,” Merlin mused and Arthur just sighed, rolling his eyes.

Leon approached them next, waiting until the others had cleared out. He gazed at Merlin with a searching look, much as Gwaine had, but much more intense. Merlin could tell this was a critical moment.

“Merlin, this is Leon,” Arthur repeated, and they shook hands. Arthur had already told Merlin all about his best friend, including adorable stories of their childhood adventures. Merlin understood that Leon was important to Arthur just as Gwen was to him, so he knew it was crucial that he make a good impression.

Leon continued to watch him for a few moments, and Merlin shifted uncomfortably under his earnest gaze.

“You care about Arthur?” Leon finally asked, his gruff voice catching Merlin off guard.

“Very much,” Merlin answered truthfully, too stunned to think of anything more eloquent. He felt Arthur shift beside him, but he was too focused to be embarrassed.

Leon nodded. “Me too,” he replied, looking Merlin in the eye. Merlin had a feeling that they had come to some kind of understanding, but the moment passed, and then Leon was grinning at him shyly from beneath his shaggy beard. He suddenly reminded Merlin of a cuddly teddy bear.

Arthur seemed relieved too and let go of Merlin’s hand to go gather his things, leaving the two of them alone. Leon continued to study Merlin for a few moments and Merlin wasn’t sure what to do now, but then before he realized it Leon had slung an arm around his shoulders and had started rattling a mile a minute. Merlin couldn’t follow most of what he was saying at first, his mind still reeling, but then he heard the word “narwhal” and it seemed to click.

After that Arthur was totally forgotten as they launched into a discussion about unicorns and robots and video games, apparently interests they had in common.

“Hey, wait for me!” Arthur called, jogging to catch up to where Leon had steered Merlin back towards the campus.

As Arthur approached Leon leaned close to whisper to Merlin in mock-confidential tones. “You know, if Arthur ever gives you any trouble you can come to me, I’ll put him in his place,” he said, throwing threatening looks at Arthur and making Merlin laugh. Arthur huffed his indignation and Merlin gave him an appraising look.

“Thanks, Leon, but I think I can keep him in line,” Merlin replied, sending Leon into a peal of laughter and Arthur smiling in grudging acknowledgment.

Arthur and Leon exchanged a weighted look that Merlin couldn’t read, and then Leon’s arm was gone from his shoulder.

“Well, Merlin, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, yeah?” Leon said, turning to give them a knowing smile as he set off for the dorm. “I’ll lend you that movie next time,” he called back over his shoulder, and Merlin waved his thanks.

Once he was out of sight Arthur pulled Merlin closer, slipping an arm around his waist. Merlin had the distinct impression that Arthur was reasserting his claim, though he didn’t mind.

“I like him too,” Merlin stated happily, turning to give Arthur his brightest smile. He had hoped they would get along tolerably, but already he felt a real connection with Leon. It was a huge relief.

“Yes, I saw how well you too got along. Are you sure you didn’t choose the wrong roommate?” Arthur asked, his tone playful. Merlin was sure he was pleased despite his pouting.

Merlin screwed up his face like he was thinking seriously. “Now that you mention it...” he drawled, and Arthur snuck his hand under Merlin’s thin shirt to tickle his side, quickly breaking his composure. Merlin didn’t know how Arthur managed it, but within a few days he had pinpointed all of Merlin’s most ticklish spots and now used them to his unfair advantage.

“Prat!” Merlin spluttered, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but Arthur held firm, smoothing his hand apologetically over the sensitive skin.

Merlin turned to glare at him and Arthur swooped in for a quick kiss, wiping away his protests.

“Fine,” Merlin sighed dramatically, “I guess I’ll have to make do with you.”

“Yeah,” Arthur chuckled as they continued walking, “I think we’ll make do just fine.”

****

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  
**THE END** (for real this time)


	6. The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short post-series oneshot: “You really want me to put that… _there_?”

“You really want me to put that… _there_?” Arthur asked, voice incredulous. His breathing was heavy and the words came out in a strained huff.

Merlin rolled his eyes and turned to look at Arthur impatiently. “Of course, where else?”

“It’s just that…well, I don’t think it’s going to _fit_ , Merlin.” Arthur really didn’t want to argue over this right now. In fact, he could come up with approximately 100 other things he would rather do this second, and half of them involved that impertinent mouth.

“I thought we agreed on this? You said you wanted it too!” Merlin was very nearly whining, something he claimed he absolutely never did, though everyone knew better. Arthur would take great delight in teasing him about it, if he weren’t so frustrated at the moment.

“I do, I do! But _there_? It’s just not going to happen. Impossible.” Arthur raised a lazy hand to wave at the spot in question, hoping that maybe Merlin’s eyes would see what his brain clearly chose to ignore. Sometimes his stubbornness was cute, but right now it was just exhausting.

A throat cleared from the doorway and Arthur and Merlin both turned, faces glum.

“Um, girls, you know this is like the gayest conversation in the history of innuendo, right?” Gwaine said with an amused smirk.

Arthur’s brow furrowed as he looked about the room. He and Merlin were standing in the bedroom of their brand new off-campus apartment, trying to wrestle with the queen size mattress Merlin had insisted on buying. What could possibly be gay about that? (Besides the obvious fact that they were buying a new mattress, to share. The thought made Arthur blush.)

What had they said that had Gwaine nearly giggling? Oh…wait.

Great, the whole team was definitely going to hear Gwaine’s retelling of this conversation on the next pub night, complete with voice impersonations. His Merlin impression wasn’t half bad, actually, and he had used it to freak Arthur out over the phone more than once, the bastard.

“Yeah, I have to agree with Gwaine on this one, sorry guys,” Leon chimed in, riffling a hand through his hair to pull it back so he could wipe at his sweat streaked forehead. He shot a playful smirk at Merlin, who had the gall to smile back as if this whole embarrassing situation wasn’t entirely his fault.

“What are you two still doing here anyway?” Arthur asked, trying to muster up haughty annoyance, though his exhaustion made it sound suspiciously close to whining.

“Is that the thanks we get for helping you move?” Gwaine asked, stepping into the room to throw an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and ruffle his hair, one of his favorite habits. Merlin seemed too tired to even complain, slumping a bit beneath Gwaine’s weight. “That’s cold. You could at least offer us a beer, mate,” he continued, with that winning smile that had charmed half the student body into bed. Arthur, however, was fully immune.

“Yes, well, thanks for your help, but we’ve got a lot to do now, so if you could…” Arthur rolled his eyes towards the doorway with a look that attempted to say both ‘you guys are great friends,’ and ‘get out before I am forced to throw you out.’

Gwaine snickered suggestively and released Merlin, who futilely attempted to flatten his hair back down. “Oh, I bet you’ve got a lot _to do_ , huh?”

Leon rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a snigger. Arthur glared daggers at both of them, and Merlin was turning several shades of red at once. It seemed Merlin would never get used to Gwaine’s innuendo, at least when it concerned himself. Arthur had tried to explain that his reactions only egged Gwaine on, but it was hopeless.

“Alright, we’ll leave you to it. But tomorrow night, pub, you’re paying,” Gwaine called over his shoulder as he and Leon headed back towards the front door. “Enjoy your first night, newlyweds!” he shouted from the hallway, loud enough that Arthur was certain all the neighbors heard. Starting off on the right foot, then. Fantastic.

“So, the bed,” Arthur said, turning to stare at it with his hands on his hips, as if it were a misbehaving puppy that he could intimidate into obedience.

Merlin sighed, coming to stand next to his boyfriend. Arthur automatically curled an arm around his waist, pulling Merlin into his side and placing a kiss against his temple.

“You know, it doesn’t really matter where we put it. As long as you’re in it, with me,” Merlin said, smiling with that little lopsided grin that still made Arthur giddy, even after a year of seeing it every day. It was his favorite of all Merlin’s smiles (which he may have catalogued with very descriptive names, organized by mood and situation. Maybe.).

“Is that an invitation?” he asked, pulling Merlin to face him with a smirk of his own.

“Gwaine’s right once in a while, you know. Our first night, in _our_ new place. Should be special.” Merlin leaned in for a kiss, and Arthur forgot all about the exhaustion of a long day of moving heavy furniture up three flights of stairs.

Though he wasn’t addled enough yet to forget all decorum. “Let me at least put some sheets on the bed first…” he said, pulling away from Merlin’s mouth reluctantly.

“ _Arthur_.”

“On second thought, it can probably wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this really is the end of the series! I might do more in the verse someday, but for now, consider it complete.

**Author's Note:**

> general A/N 1: Beta'd by and lj users rufflefeather and maybelater__ they were both fantastic and motivating and lightning fast! I never would have finished this series without them.
> 
> general A/N 2: the story premise was initially inspired by [this](http://immd.icanhascheezburger.com/2011/01/18/funny-win-story-sams-little-moment-of-win/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+IMMD+%28It+Made+My+Day%29) post at [It Made My Day](http://immd.icanhascheezburger.com/).
> 
> general A/N 3: there's a soundtrack, pdf download, and some banners available at [my livejournal masterpost](http://i-know-its-0ver.livejournal.com/422673.html).


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